Iuga Sortis III: The Beginning
by bana05
Summary: In which destiny is met. AN: This is the end . . . it's been a long, crazy ride: 2 years. It's fitting I started this fic when OotP was released, and now I end it a week before HBP. I'm glad y'all took the journey with me and I sincerely appreciate it.
1. One

_One_

He landed on the floor with a dull "thud," his back throbbing with the force of the impact.

"That's the third time you let me do that to you! Pay attention!"

_I _am_ paying attention! Just not to this training session . ._

"How much does it cost? I need to make sure I have enough money in the Gringotts vaults . ."

"Malfoy!"

"Weasley."

A hand appeared in his line of vision, and he grasped it tightly, allowing the owner of said hand to bring him to his feet.

"What's with you today? You seem out of it."

"Perhaps it's because I'm trying to figure out ways to get _you_ out of it. Do you know how sexy you are in your training gear?"

She blushed prettily and grinned. "Draco!"

"Ginny."

"We're supposed to be practicing wandless magic."

"That's no fun. My 'wand' can surely do magical things if only you'd let it."

"At the rate you're going, I'd have serious doubts about that!"

Draco's mouth dropped open slightly. "Ginevra Weasley! I should wash out that pretty little mouth of yours."

She smirked. "I'd like to see you try."

Draco, not one to pass up a challenge, met her request and slammed his mouth against hers. Ginny melted into his kiss and wrapped her arms around his neck. After a while, she separated from him and smiled softly. "Has my mouth been cleaned properly?"

He quirked an eyebrow. "For now . . . but I think the rest of you is rather dirty . . ."

Her eyes widened. "Draco! I can't believe your gall!"

"And you say you love me."

She frowned. "Don't you ever doubt that, Draco."

"Never, love," he reassured her with a kiss. His mouth trailed across her cheek to run along her jawbone.

"You're really dirty, love," Draco moaned between kisses. "I plan to give you a proper cleaning." He lifted her in his arms, and she wrapped her legs around his waist.

"Draco . . . you may want to put me down . . . I'm not light as a feather, you know."

"But you feel so good in my arms, love; though I'll admit, I'm trying to figure out which wall is closer to prop you up against."

"DRACO!"

He chuckled as she shook herself out of his arms and stood with a scowl on her face and hands on her hips. "For future _reference: _ _never_ tell a girl if she's put on a few pounds!"

"But the truth elicits such an intriguing reaction, don't you think?"

She glared at him. "It could leave you bollock-less!"

His countenance fell at the threat. "I'll hold my tongue from now on, promise."

"You'd better," she said, sauntering up to him and wrapping her arms around his neck. "I've grown quite partial to that tongue of yours . . ."

He grinned as her lips and tongue met his. This kiss was lazy and slow, allowing him to rediscover every crevice of her sweet mouth.

"I've missed this tongue this summer," he murmured between kisses.

"Just my tongue?" she said saucily.

"Hmm . . . I guess the rest of you as well . . "

"You'd better, because I've missed all of you . ."

Draco and his mother were now staying at twelve Grimmauld Place, ironically a family holding as well as the Order's Headquarters. While it wasn't the palatial mansion to which he was accustomed, beggars couldn't be choosers. As it was, there were good things to come out of it—such as reuniting with his cousin Tonks and his mother with her niece, as well as Sirius and his mother reconciling.

"How was the Burrow?" he asked, placing kisses along the column of her neck.

"Absolutely horrid without you there to use as punishment against Ron and Hermione. They were positively wretched to watch, knowing you were merely a Floo away, so I could do some necking of my own . . ."

"At least you didn't have to watch your mother and her old boyfriend dance around each other every day. I got tired after awhile, but Tonks was good to know."

"I've always liked Tonks."

"And apparently, she likes your brother Charlie, as well."

"What's not to like about a Weasley, honestly?"

Draco shook his head in mock disgust. "I guess if people of my blood have to date Weasleys, I should be grateful it's not your infernal brother Weasel. Leave him to the Mudblood."

His skin began to sizzle where she gripped him, and he separated from her roughly. "Ginger!"

"You know how I feel about that word, Draco."

Draco sighed and rolled his eyes. "I won't say it again. Now heal me!" He held out his arm to her, and she looked at it with amusement and indignation.

"Where do you get off ordering me around as if I were a house-elf?! I'm your _girlfriend,_ or have you already forgotten?"

_She's not Pansy, you tosser! She's the woman you love!_

"I'msorryGinnywillyoupleasefixmyarm?"

"What was that?"

He glared at her. "I'm _sorry, Ginny._ Will you please fix my arm?"

"I don't know if that was sincere . . ."

"It's as sincere as it's going to get. Be lucky you got _that_ much."

"Be lucky you still have legs to stand on!"

Draco sensed this was going downhill fast. "Ginny, my apology was as sincere as my love for you, even if it didn't sound like it was."

She looked at him for a long moment before pouting and opening her arms to him. He grinned at her and kissed her forehead.

"That was possibly the sweetest thing you've said to me thus far."

"I meant it."

"I know you did, love, or else I wouldn't have healed your arm."

He frowned and looked at his formerly injured arm then back to her. "You're a damn good goddess, love."

"The best part is I'm _your _goddess . . "

She kissed him slowly, and he placed his hands at the small of her back.

"Uh, when they said 'training,' I don't think they meant for the _honeymoon . . ._"

Ginny giggled as she pulled away from him, and Draco groaned, sending a menacing glare to their interrupter.

"Jealously is highly unbecoming, love," he said with an eyebrow raised.

"You know, that statement would actually _mean_ somethin' if I liked girls, but I don't."

Ginny laughed at Draco's nonplussed expression and slapped hands with Nia. "That was great!"

Draco rolled his eyes. "Where's your boyfriend, Nia?"

She glared at him. "Nonexistent!"

He snorted. "That's not what Ginny told me! I thought he told you—" The sound suddenly stopped coming from him mouth, and his eyes flew to the two girls before him. Nia gave a mock yawn and patted her hand over her mouth. Ginny was biting her lip to keep from laughing.

Draco stomped his foot on the mat and pointed to his mouth.

"Sorry, what was that? You're gonna hafta speak up, _love,_" Nia said, syrupy sweet.

Ginny laughed aloud then and collapsed to the floor from the force of it. Draco glared at them and moved his mouth in a mocking gesture as he began to walk to the door.

"Don't go throw a hissy, Draco! The curse will be over in five minutes!" Nia exclaimed on a laugh. Draco made a rude gesture and approached the door.

"Where are you going? Training's not over yet."

Draco's lip curled at the sound of the voice and the unbecoming name.

_The wanker is damn lucky I can't speak right now . . ._

He didn't spare the other boy a glance as he walked past.

"Which one of them cursed you _this_ time?" came the amused question.

Draco turned angry eyes to the dark-haired boy. "Go to hell, Potty!" he mouthed then turned and continued to walk.

Harry snickered. "Either way, they both get a great big kiss from me . . . gratitude, of course . . ."

Draco's smile was nothing short of gleeful as he heard Harry slam into the suddenly-closed door.

_I think I'm going to like this wandless magic business . . ._

It had been two months since the raid and was now three weeks before term started again. When he went back, he'd be a seventh year—something that was definitely bittersweet. There was very little holding him to Hogwarts—especially not his father. Draco really didn't care what the arse thought; Lucius lost that right the moment he put Ginny in danger. But in order to hone and control his powers, he needed to stay in Hogwarts. In fact, there were only three reasons he was returning this year—training, Nia, and Ginny. He needed to train to hone his powers, he needed to be with Nia to help her adjust into hers, and he needed Ginny, period.

Draco knew the raid was just the tip of the iceberg of what was to happen. When the Death Eaters launched another attack, it would be the beginning of the Wizards' War. Voldemort and Pettigrew would not back down, and they would not come unprepared. The Order was doing everything they could, but it was up to him, Ginny, Nia, and Potter to really step it up and save the wizarding world from Set, Voldemort, and their lackeys.

That was why the four of them returned early to Hogwarts to begin training; Professor Roberts even took away their wands upon entering the training room, so they could effectively practice using wandless magic. Of course Ginny was the best—she'd had the most practice thus far—but Draco was a close second. Though Nia showed the earliest in regards to her attack against Crabbe last summer, she was, ironically, the one who had the most difficulty. Harry only did slightly better, but that was because he kept trying to "help" Nia.

_The only way you're going to help her is to tell her how you feel, prat! Or at the very least, admit it fully to yourself!_

Draco wasn't naïve; he knew his and Ginny's open feelings were a large reason why they were as powerful as they were. He'd admitted his feelings about Ginny to himself well before she first exhibited her powers, and he'd like to think she'd accepted hers for him by then as well. How else could she have healed Potter and Weasel, if not for that? And though he couldn't feel the change after he told Ginny his love for her, he instinctively knew it happened. Love was a powerful thing, and to be in it was an overwhelming experience—_especially_ if it unlocked a magical force that could make an ancient god crazy with wanting it.

That was not to say Nia couldn't do _any_ wandless magic—get her mad or annoyed enough, and all hell could break loose (case in point: his sudden inability to speak)—but the magic needed to be readily available and not dependent on passionate emotional surges. It needed love.

Draco understood Potter's reluctance—Nia was only fourteen—but Pettigrew clearly didn't care about age: The overgrown rat only cared about power and how he could obtain it. Also, what was it his mother said about love?

_Love knows no age._

Draco rolled his eyes. For all the fluffiness the comment held, it was horribly accurate, if not necessary. He heard the stories of why Potter survived the first attack from Voldemort, and it seemed the very reason was necessary if Potter was to survive another attack. Only this time, the love would come from someone else. And as much as Potter got on Draco's nerves, he didn't want the Boy Who Lived dead.

It was much more entertaining to annoy a _living_ Harry Potter.

_They'll figure it out, eventually. I think those two will have a date with the sixth floor soon._

Then again, they could end up like his mother and Remus—dancing around each other as they had been for the majority of the summer as they suppressed the feelings they still held for each other. The tension between them was so thick one could suffocate in it. He remembered witnessing their first reunion in probably over sixteen years.

sssssssssssss

_"Mrs. Malfoy."_

_"Remus."_

_Her reply came a while after his acknowledgment, but it was clear the very sight of him shook her deeply._

_"We will protect you, Mrs. Malfoy."_

_"I know you will, Remus."_

_The other man swallowed visibly and closed his eyes. "Mrs. Malfoy—"_

_"I've missed you . . . so much . . "_

_She clasped her hands together and bowed her head. Remus appeared indecisive, as if fighting the urge to take her in his arms and comfort her._

_"I've missed you as well, Mrs. Malfoy."_

_"Please call me Narcissa . . . or at the very least Miss Black. Don't ever refer to me by my married name. I'm not the 'proper' Mrs. Malfoy in the first place . . ."_

_"Very well . . . Narcissa . . "_

_Narcissa closed her eyes and smiled softly. "I love it when you say my name, Remus. I feel warm and unafraid . . . it's so different from when Luc—I mean, he says it."_

_"Then why did you marry him?"_

_She gave a wry smile and shook her head but did not answer. Narcissa began to unpack her belongings in rigid fashion, her body shaking slightly._

_"Are you going to answer my question?" Remus asked after a while._

_"I don't usually make it a habit to answer questions to which you already know the answer."_

_There was silence for a moment before a deep chuckle broke it. "Just as feisty as ever, I see."_

_She laughed sardonically. "If I _had_ been, I'd probably be dead by now . . "_

_"Narcissa . . ."_

_"I married myself to Satan himself, and for what? For family pride? For posterity? To make my parents happy?"_

_It was a while before Remus spoke. "I offered you my hand."_

_Narcissa snorted and closed her eyes. "I couldn't very well take it—not after what Andy did."_

_Remus looked at the ceiling in resignation. "Because I'm a monster."_

_Narcissa opened her eyes and glared at him. "Don't say that, Remus. You are kind and gentle. You're the only man I love."_

_Remus snickered humorlessly. "And that's why you married a man from one of the most prominent families in the wizarding world, right?"_

_Her eyes widened and filled with tears, but she nodded. "I deserve your hatred and your animosity, Remus. I'll stay out of your way while we're here. Hopefully we'll find a Secret-Keeper, so Draco and I will be out of here. You'll never have need to hear from me again. I did it for almost seventeen years . . . what's another seventeen?"_

_"Narcissa—"_

_"Good day, Remus," she interrupted and walked out of the room quickly. He watched her leave the room and sighed heavily._

_"You half-human bastard."_

_Remus jumped at the sound of the angry voice and whirled to face the owner of it._

_"Draco—"_

_The younger man held up a hand to stop his words, his eyes full of ice. "You hurt my mother. I will not stand for it. You will find her and apologize to her, or I swear to Merlin, you will get a taste of what I've been doing in training."_

_The two men stared at each other without saying a word, as if sizing each other up for battle. "You're not allowed to abuse your powers in such a way, Draco," he warned._

_Draco smirked. "Who said I'd be abusing them?"_

_Remus narrowed his eyes. "You'd do well to stay out of adults' business."_

_"According to my birth certificate and wizarding law, I've been an adult for eight months now."_

_Remus rolled his eyes. "Compared to me, you're still a child."_

_Draco lifted an eyebrow. "And _yet,_ the only one who is acting as such is you."_

_Remus sighed. "Let's see how big and tough you are once your heart gets broken, Son."_

_Draco's bravado faltered at the use of the word "son." "What did you call me?"_

_Remus looked at him briefly before turning away again. "When I first met you, it was in Diagon Alley. Lucius was off doing Merlin-Knows-What, and your mother was shopping—"_

_"My mother was out the house running errands? Surely you've confused her with someone else," Draco said wryly._

_Remus grinned at the comment. "There are many things about your mother that would surprise you to know. She and Andy did a lot of things the old-fashioned way. It was their mother and Bellatrix who insisted on being lazy."_

_Draco snorted at the characterization._

_"She didn't see me, of course, but I knew her scent anywhere. I was confused, however, because there was another scent . . . a softer scent—smelled like cumin, which was odd considering we were in Flourish and Blotts—but it was coming from her direction. And then I saw you. You were asleep on her shoulder, a little bubble expanding and contracting with each of your breaths."_

_Draco felt his cheeks redden at the embarrassing description of himself. "How cute."_

_Remus laughed. "I had never seen your mother so beautiful as she was_ _then. She was muttering things to you; I'm assuming they were book titles because she'd read the spine then smile at your sleeping form. She was wonderful with you, and at that moment, I envisioned you as my son."_

_Draco paused a bit at the admission. "But I belong to Lucius . . . then again, paternity is so fucked up in the wizarding world I could be Dumbledore's . . ."_

_Both men looked at each other and shuddered at the implication. Remus chuckled. "You are Lucius'. You look too much like him to be anyone else's. But luckily you have more of your mother in your personality . . . and, I'm assuming, a bit of Osiris as well."_

_"That little thing . . ."_

_"Yes, that little thing. Are you still sure you wish they taught the Dark Arts at Hogwarts now?"_

_Draco nodded. "How do you expect to fight what you don't know? Most of the students at Hogwarts are as bright as a brick and wouldn't know the difference between a disarming spell and a stunner if it walked up to them naked dancing a jig."_

_"Or wearing a dress and a hat as Snape did when he was Neville's boggart."_

_Draco sniggered. "How I wish I could've seen that. I may have to plant a boggart near Longbottom's desk in DADA to see if it turns to Snape again."_

_"I think Jamilah would appreciate that more than you would," Remus said._

_"Right, but Nia would not and would tell me so in a most painful way."_

_Remus grinned. "She's like her mother in that respect. She loved him so much, but he broke her heart."_

_"Much as my mother did to you . . . and both had really good reasons, didn't they?"_

_Remus looked at him for a long moment before nodding. "Even after all these years . . I still love your mother, Draco; Merlin help me, I do."_

_"You're the Gryffindor in this outfit. Use that infernal courage of yours and do something about it."_

_Remus glared at him lightly. "But she's vulnerable now."_

_Draco smirked. "That's the problem with you Gryffindors—you never know the best time to strike is when defenses are down. Because I tell you, if you think Voldemort is going to wait until we have all our resources, then we may as well hand Nia over on a silver platter."_

_"One of the Slytherin colors," Remus said with a quirked eyebrow._

_"It's his spoils, no?"_

_"But we're trying to spoil his plans, so to speak. The only thing I want of silver is Pettigrew's hand after he's been given a Dementor's Kiss."_

_"They have Dementors on their side. Lucius said so."_

_"We have you four on our side, as well as competent Order members and well-trained Aurors. They're going to get the fight of their lives, and we will be victorious."_

_Draco looked at him wryly. "Spoken like a Gryffindor."_

_Remus was about to answer when Narcissa re-entered the room. They stared at each other, and Draco had the distinct feeling Remus forgot he was in the room._

_"No," the older man said finally. "Spoken like a man who will do it right this time."_

__

ssssssss

__

The sounds of footsteps shook him from his reverie, and he continued to walk. Belatedly he realized he never had a set destination. All he knew was he wanted to be far away from the giggling crowd—even if the crowd was only two teenage girls. Suddenly his feet began to feel impossibly heavy to the point where he couldn't even lift them. Draco was essentially rooted to the spot and could only turn at his waist to see who would dare do such a thing.

_The love of my life . . . of course . . _

Ginny wore a smug grin as she approached, and Draco felt the corners of his own mouth lift. He turned forward again and crossed his arms at his chest. He felt her near him before she even touched him, so great was his link with her.

"And _where_ do you think _you_ are going?" she asked as she wrapped her arms around his waist from behind him.

"Sorry if I don't fancy being made a laughing stock by my girlfriend and my best friend."

"I see you have your voice back."

"Disappointed?"

"You have a sexy voice, Draco . . . it just doesn't do to have it silenced for extended periods of time . . ."

He felt her lips on his shoulder, and he chuckled low. "You're sexy period, love . . it just doesn't do to have you out of my arms for extended periods of time . . "

She giggled and ran a hand along his bare arm. "You're so soft . . ."

"Soft?"

"Yes, soft. Your skin's so silky and smooth and just begging for my touch . . ."

He gripped her legs and brought them to lock at his waist so she was piggyback to him. "You're right, Ginger; it's begging for you. If you unlock my legs, we can go answer its call right away."

"But what about Nia and Harry? Professor Roberts trusted us to be able to train without her supervision . . ."

"We _are_ training . . . for the honeymoon . ."

"Oh, you naughty Slytherin . . ."

Draco felt his legs freed and began to walk, with a new purpose, up seven flights of stairs to the Room of Requirement.

"Do you want me to help you stretch?"

Nia giggled uncontrollably at the question. Though on the surface it sounded innocent enough, she knew there was an underlying meaning to it.

"What?" he asked on a laugh.

She answered after her giggles died down a bit. "Nothin' . . ."

"The offer still stands, you know."

Her eyes darted to his hips then back to his eyes, which widened in surprise then darkened with invitation.

"I've been spendin' _way_ too much time with the twins . . ."

"And you're a Slytherin, remember . . . a horny lot, you are."

"Jealous because we get play, are you?"

"Funny . . . I always thought you were on the reserve team . ."

Now that comment hurt, and she turned her back to him. Not that it mattered—she was facing the wall of mirrors, and she knew he could see her hurt expression.

"Dangit!" she whispered.

"I'm sorry, Nia . . "

"I think you just ripped the band-aid off—roughly, I may add." She sat down spread eagle and began to stretch. Harry sat in front of her and placed his feet opposite hers.

"You've got more flexible since we've started. You're practically doing a full-on split."

She ignored his comment but couldn't help the heat that rose in her cheeks. During the course of the year, she had lost considerable weight—though not enough to ever be called skinny—and as a result gained more agility in her body. The cartwheel she could do at the beginning of last year had been upgraded to somersaults and flips. It wasn't easy, and her body had many bruises to prove it, but the end results were well worth the falls.

"I heard Professor Roberts mention something about flying—"

She snapped up her head. "Flyin'? What's this about flyin'?"

Harry looked at her with an amused expression. "Don't you fly?"

"I like my feet grounded, thank you."

He shook his head in disappointment. "You don't know what you're missing."

"And I'd like to keep it that way!"

"Flying is such exhilaration! Why do you think Malfoy, Ginny, and I do it?"

"You're crazy and not afraid of heights, maybe?"

He looked surprised by that. "You're afraid of—"

"Yes. Terrified. Can't get on a Ferris wheel to save my life."

"Ferris wheel?"

She looked at him askance. "Okay, I'd expect a question like that to come from the lovebirds, but you? You were raised a Muggle for the majority of your life, and you mean to tell me you don't know what a Ferris wheel is?"

"I was stuck in a cupboard most of the time."

She sniffed. "And they say _I_ need to get out more . . ."

"You do . . . this year we'll go to Hogsmeade together . . "

Nia almost pulled something as she collapsed over the leg she was stretching. "_What?_"

Harry's face was crimson, but his eyes remained on her. "Come to Hogsmeade with me."

"The term hasn't even _started_ yet! And who knows? I _may_ be under house arrest, with what happened there before we left for the summer!"

"Professor Roberts can't keep you cooped up in here forever."

"She bloody well can!"

He grinned at her. "You're cute when you use British slang."

Nia promptly went back to stretching, careful not to make sudden movements. Harry Potter, regardless of the romantic feelings she had for him, _still_ got on her nerves. Only now, it was that you're-cute-and-I-like-you-a-lot-so-it's-okay-that-you-annoy-me-because-at-least-I-know-you-pay-_some-_kind-of-attention-to-me type of annoyance.

_And the punk knew it._

She groaned and moved to the other leg. "What happened to me 'not being ready for _your love_'?"

He didn't answer, and she thought it was just as well. She talked to Angelina about that loaded comment, but her older sister was surprisingly tight-lipped about it—all the more peculiar. But every time Nia mentioned Harry, Angelina would get a silly little grin on her face which said, "I know something you don't know!" It was all Nia could do not to hex it off her face.

"I'm of the mind that love is like a marathon—you need proper training in order to do well in it."

Nia's reaction was between a snort and a sob. "And after we've run the 26.2-whatever miles?"

"Who said love had to be 26.2 miles?"

Nia looked up and glared at him. "Stop that right now, Harry Potter. You ain't Don Juan, so stop tryin' to be. Perhaps you need to listen to your godfather instead of your best friend."

Harry appeared taken aback, but only briefly, and he snickered. "Ron doesn't know much about women, granted . . . but he makes Hermione happy."

"Yes, and I ain't Hermione."

"Very true."

"And you ain't Ron."

"Also very true."

"So I ask you again, what's your angle with this? Don't play with me, Harry Potter. I may be only fourteen, but I ain't stupid, and my feelings have as much validity now as they would if I were twenty-four."

"I know that, love, but you would think to give me the same courtesy."

She looked at him aghast and sat up. "The _same courtesy?_ Who went to Cho for a rebound because Ginny told him _no?_ How am I to know you ain't usin' me because I'm young and seemingly a non-issue?"

He chuckled. "You're most definitely _not_ a non-issue."

Some of Nia's bluster left at the comment, and she leaned forward to stretch. "I feel like I am. I know I'm young, and Slytherin, and I have a crush, but I would appreciate it if you didn't take it lightly and . . ." Her voice died down as Harry's large, calloused hands enveloped hers as he pulled them towards his body. The action served to stretch not only her outer thighs, but her back as well.

"Mmm . . ." she moaned, feeling her tense muscles relax.

"That good?" His voice was low, and it sent shivers down her spine.

"Yes, Harry, thanks."

He smiled at her and squeezed her hands, and she couldn't prevent the corners of her own mouth from lifting.

"You know, when you ain't bein' maudlin, you're a really nice guy."

"Thanks," he said sarcastically.

She laughed and shook her head. "No, I mean it, Harry. You're gonna make some girl real happy one day."

"That's the plan, anyway."

His look created a feeling she didn't want to analyze, so she brought both of her legs together and began to stretch again. She saw him come closer to her from her peripheral vision, and his hands grasped her feet, pointing them to get the maximum stretch in her limbs.

"Can you touch your nose to your knees?" he challenged.

"Huh," she replied and proceeded to prove she could.

"Good girl," he said, half-condescendingly, half-proud.

"I ain't a dog, Potter."

"Nor a puppy, as you insinuated earlier this summer."

She glared at him and brought one leg to her chest to stretch another muscle.

"Are you stretched?" she asked after a while.

He nodded. "I came down before our schedule session. I was antsy."

She frowned. "Oh? About what?"

He shrugged. "I'm a seventh year—my last year, you know? I'm afraid of what Voldemort and Pettigrew are planning right now."

"Are you afraid you won't be able to graduate?"

"Graduate?"

Nia rolled her eyes. "You Brits are a mess . . . finish school; get that slip of paper that says you can do magic."

"We're doing magic _now,_ aren't we?"

"But apparently it doesn't register because it ain't 'normal' magic, so to speak."

"That's part of the fear I have. What sorts of magic will the Death Eaters use? The stuff they teach here is that normal magic, and clearly Pettigrew and crew won't play by the rules. What if we're not prepared by the time the first curse is thrown?"

"Grandma will prepare all the students as they should be; you have to have faith about that."

"Yes. But what about me—_us._ We can't do _half_ the things Draco and Ginny are doing. Never thought the ferret would be better at Defense Against the Dark Arts than I . . "

"Ego much?"

"Shut it."

She chuckled a bit as she switched the positions of her legs. "Think about it, Potter. He was raised around it; he would know better than you, right?"

"Yes, but that doesn't explain why they are so much better at the wandless magic than we are."

"Do you mean 'we' or 'you'? I'm new to this magic business, remember?"

"Not so new. You're a fourth year, right?"

"Right."

"Three years ago, I was a fourth year . . . Voldemort finally rose, and I had to fight him . . . Cedric . . ."

"Cedric?"

"Yeah. Tri-Wizard Tournament . . . it was all a hoax to get me . . . he died because he was expendable . . ."

Nia had heard mutterings about it her first year at Hogwarts, but Draco didn't offer any answers.

"And you're afraid that will happen again, something like that."

He nodded and raised his knees to his chest. "And the irony is he was someone I didn't know all that well. Next time, Voldemort is going to go after someone I _do_ know, someone I _do_ care about. He got Sirius once; I'm afraid of who else he will try to get."

"You mean like Ron or Hermione?" she suggested.

Harry made a circle with his head as he nodded. "Them . . . Ginny . . . Sirius again . . . Dumbledore . . . Remus . . . one of the Weasleys . . . there are too many targets of mine he can hit, and I can't be everywhere to protect them."

Nia couldn't help feeling hurt at being one of the people he didn't name, but she suppressed it. "Harry, you're only one person, and all the people you named are more than capable of defending themselves."

He sighed and shook his head. "I know that. I know that in my head. But in my gut, I just have this ache, this constant ache that someone who's very important to me will be taken from me."

Nia stopped stretching and crawled towards him. She sat next to Harry, their backs to the mirror.

"You saved Ginny—you and Draco. She's the strongest one of us, so you don't have to worry about her. Hermione is the smartest witch at the school, and Ron . . . Ron is smart in his own way—if a bit hasty. They'll be fine. I don't know how you feel about Draco, but knowing him, he'll annoy Set to the point he'd want to give him _back_. Voldemort is scared of Dumbledore, so there you have that. All in all, you have nothing to worry about, Potter."

"What about you?"

She felt her heart constrict. "What about me?"

"I meant what I said to you at the beginning of the summer: you are a target—a vulnerable one at that. What if something happens to you?"

Nia snorted. "Don't worry. I won't be leaving this castle anytime soon. Nothing will happen to me."

Harry shook his head. "Barty Crouch impersonated a professor and was able to turn the Tri-Wizard trophy into a Portkey. This school is not as impenetrable as people would like to believe."

"I'll be under constant surveillance. Draco—when he's not mooning over Ginny—won't give me enough room to _breathe,_ let alone walk around by myself. I'll be fine."

"_This_ year you will be. But what about next year, when Malfoy and I aren't here? Or the year after that, when Ginny isn't here? You have two years when you're alone without us."

Nia frowned at his words. Harry had a point. Ever since training began, it had been the four of them. In two years time, the numbers would go down to one—her alone. She didn't think she would be any worse for wear without them, but Harry's words made her consider the potential vulnerability.

"Do you think me incapable of taking care of myself?"

Harry shook his head. "This has nothing to do with your capabilities. This is about someone having your back. What if the same thing that happened to Ginny this summer happened to you? Malfoy, Ginny, and I won't be there to help!"

She clutched her knees tighter to her chest. "You really think they'd be stupid enough to try crap like that again?"

"Voldemort is nothing if not persistent. He'll try whatever and do whatever to get what he wants."

"And he'll try harder than ever to kill you, won't he?"

Harry rolled his eyes. "Unfortunately. But at least I have people here who are behind me. Do you have any friends outside of Malfoy and Ginny's year?"

Nia frowned. "Not really. I didn't really have any time for outside friends last year because of training. And my friend during my first year here went to Beauxbatons because her parents were afraid of Voldemort's return."

"So you're alone."

She made herself smaller. "Way to make a girl feel good about herself."

Nia felt those calloused hands at her chin and allowed him to point her face to his. "It's not about making you feel good, Nia. It's about keeping you alive and _out_ of Voldemort's and Pettigrew's grip. Promise me you'll make some friends in your year during this term."

"I have people I talk to, Harry."

"Do you trust any of them with your life?"

She didn't answer for a while. "Slytherins don't manifest their friendships in the same way you Gryffindors do. Trust is a precious, if not rare, commodity down in the dungeons."

"Then find a Gryffindor to be friends with—I don't care. I just don't want to get an owl a year or two from now saying 'Nia Roberts has died.'"

"I don't want you getting an owl like that, either."

"Then listen to me, Nia, please . ." He grabbed her hand and linked her fingers through his. She looked at their clasped hands, seeing his larger, lighter hand engulf her smaller, darker one. His thumb caressed hers, and she closed her eyes, causing the sensation to become stronger.

"Did Grandma put you up to this? I know she's not above doing that . . ."

He squeezed her hand. "This has nothing to do with your grandmother, or Snape, or Angelina, or Draco and Ginny. This is about you, making a promise to me, that you will do everything in your power to ensure your safety from Voldemort and Pettigrew and whoever else might want to take you away from me."

She squeezed her eyes tighter at his words. "Away from you?"

He removed his hand from hers, and she barely caught the whimper that threatened to escape. She gasped as she felt him behind her, his long legs on either side of hers and his arms around her waist.

"Away from me. You're my partner, Nia—in training, in knowledge of these ancient powers we have. And I'd like to think, despite all that's happened between us, you're my friend."

_I want to be more than that . . ._

"Yeah . . . friend . . ."

He squeezed her tightly and kissed her temple. "Am I your friend, Nia?"

She snorted. "There's a loaded question."

"Why is it loaded?"

"Harry . . ."

He moved a hand to grasp her chin again. He directed her face to his. "It's a valid question, no? Do you have a crush on me for my dashing good looks, or are there genuine feelings of friendship and like bubbling under the surface?"

"One of two ain't bad."

"I sincerely hope you're referring to my dashing good looks as the false statement."

She grinned and tapped his nose. "Bingo."

He grinned, and she realized reluctantly he was actually two for two.

_Wonderful._

"I like holding you."

Her eyes widened, and her eyebrows shot up at the comment. "Harry . . "

"I know I shouldn't say that, but it's true. It feels like I'm protecting you."

Her eyes began to sting, and she closed her eyes. "You're not playing fair, Harry. You're not supposed to say that to a girl who you know likes you."

"Why not, especially when I like her back?"

The tears escaped her eyes totally against her will; she was unprepared for the admission. "Harry . . "

Nia felt lips at her cheek, and she held her breath. His lips were so soft against her skin, and she felt her body shake. "It's okay, love . . shhh . . . I'm here . . ."

Nia snuggled against him, addicted to the warmth and comfort he provided. "Will you always be here?"

He chuckled into her hair and held her closer. "Try to stop me."


	2. Two

_Two_

This year there wasn't an extra letter in his owl, and he couldn't help the feeling of grave disappointment.  She'd tried her best to be supportive of him, but he wouldn't let his mood affect her great accomplishment of being named Head Girl.

"You deserve it, love.  Congratulations on your appointment," he'd told her and stepped into the fire to go to Diagon Alley before she could make a reply.

He'd avoided her all day yesterday, getting the necessary supplies for the new school year.  She, being his brilliant witch, realized he needed his space that day and granted it to him willingly.

Now he was on the Hogwarts Express, staring forlornly out of the window because his best friend was already at Hogwarts and his girlfriend was having a meeting with the new Head Boy and prefects—a meeting he _should've _been attending.

He was glad the Weasley temper was a famous thing, for people left him alone to sulk in peace.  The old insecurities he had in fourth year were returning, and he wanted a moment to wallow in them.

_Looks like not everything in my vision from the Mirror of Erised will come true . . _

"You _are_ still a prefect, Ron; you're just not the Head Boy . . ."

Ron sighed and turned to face her.  Her warm, brown eyes were sad for him, and he loved her all the more.  She walked closer and sat next to him.  He rose and began to leave, but a hand grabbed his.  Hermione stood and linked her fingers through his.  He granted her a small smile, and her face relaxed immensely.

"And even if you're _not_ Head Boy, you're still my king."

His smile broadened, and he cradled her cheek with his free hand.  "Love you."

She grinned and stood on tiptoe to kiss his lips.  "Love you."

"I'm sorry I've been such an arse."

She smirked.  "Wouldn't be the first time, and it won't be the last."

He tried to glare at her, but it was mild and only earned him an eye roll and a giggle.

"I don't fancy you laughing at me."

"But at least you _fancy_ me, right?"

He wrapped his arms around her and kissed her forehead.  "How can I not?  You're the smartest witch in the class, Hermione.  I do fear you've put a charm on me."

"That can't be right.  I would have chosen someone who could match my intellect if I wanted to waste a charm like that!"

Ron looked indignant.  "I've matched your intellect _loads_ of times, Miss Granger, even bested it!"

"Ha!  You, who couldn't properly do _Wingardium Leviosa_ your first year."

"I _eventually _got it right and saved you from the troll, or have your forgotten that?"

She chuckled low in her throat and gave him a smile.  "I haven't forgotten.  You're pretty unforgettable, Mr. Weasley."

He smiled and kissed her lips lightly.  "So are you, Miss Granger . . "

She hugged him tightly, and Ron sensed a change in mood.  "Ron . . . I'm Head Girl!  Everything I've worked so hard to achieve has finally come to fruition!  What am I going to do once we finish Hogwarts?  I can't very well go back to being a Muggle!  Magic is too much a part of me, and yet, I want to continue to study . . "

"You can go to wizard universities . . . Oxford is among the best—"

"Oxford?  You mean Rhodes Scholars' Oxford?"

"Who?"

Hermione's eyes widened, and she gave a small yelp.  "_Oxford!_  Oh my!  That's one of the most prestigious Muggle universities in the _world_!"

"And apparently it's a bloody good wizards' university as well.  Percy was going to go until the Ministry called.  Sometimes I wish he went on ahead."

"Oh no!  Now my N.E.W.T.s are more important than _ever!_  One can hardly expect to be accepted without top marks—"

"Hermione—"

"And professor referrals!  All of them will be easy to obtain . . . but Snape—"

"_Snape!_ Why do you need his _bloody _referral?!"

"Oh, come off it, Ron!  He has a brilliant mind, and his class is the most exacting of all—"

"He's also the biggest _arse_ of all!"

"He's an Order member, Ron!"

"Doesn't keep him from being an arse, Hermione!"

Hermione groaned and continued her mental checklist.  "I have to do research . . . think about what field I want to pursue . . . McGonagall's career advice time wasn't as helpful as it could've been because of Professor Umbridge—"

"That beastly woman . . . shudder . . . good riddance to whatever hellhole she found."

"Ron!  That's a terrible thing to say."

He merely rolled his eyes in response.

"But then again, I don't know if I want to be an Auror or not—"

"Me and Harry will be Aurors!  We can Apparate now!"

She pouted.  "I'm still upset you and Harry have your Apparition licenses . . . you could've at least waited until _I_ turned seventeen . . ."

He gave a half smile.  "And give up the chance to pass a test before you?  Not on your _life!_  We wanted to savor the moment . . "

"Oh please."

"Besides, I can Apparate when I want . . . and where I want . . . I know the Head Girl wouldn't mind late night visits with her dashing, devilishly charming boyfriend."

She snorted.  "Oliver Wood can't Apparate on and off Hogwarts grounds."

Ron seemed to tune her out.  "I know you can't Apparate on—_Oliver Wood?_"

Hermione bit her lip and giggled at his reaction, and Ron felt his ears go pink.  "Hermione—"

"You know you're the only Keeper for me, love," she said prettily, batting her eyelashes in an un-Hermione-like fashion.

"I damn well better be, Hermione; I have big plans for us and—"

"Big plans?"

He was sure his face mirrored hers—red as a tomato.  He admitted to himself the train was _not_ the place where he wanted to bring up the topic of their future, so he chose to divert the conversation.

"Since I missed the prefects' meeting, mind telling me who the Head Boy is and what was discussed?"

Hermione frowned.  "Well, I don't know who the Head Boy is—he never came, which I don't think bodes well for the school if the Head Boy blows off responsibility like that."

Ron scowled.  "That is odd.  Maybe he missed the train, just as Harry and I did second year."

She raised her eyebrows, something she did when a thought came to her.  "Or _maybe,_ he's already at Hogwarts."

His eyes widened.  "_Harry!_  Dumbledore would pass over me for _Harry?_  He wasn't even made prefect during our fifth year!  I thought you had to be a prefect in order to be eligible for the Head Boy or Girl position!"

Hermione had an apologetic expression on her face.  "Well . . . Ron . . . there's someone _else_ at Hogwarts right now . . . someone who _was_ a prefect for the past two years . . ."

Ron searched his brain then became angry.  "Hell.  No."

"Ron—"

"I _refuse_ to have you around that git.  He's a _Malfoy, _for Merlin's sake!"

"A Malfoy who, whether we want to admit it or not, saved your sister's life and is in love with her."

"Bugger that!  I'll bet it's all some elaborate plan to get her to Voldemort!  To get on our good side before he strikes."

Hermione shook her head.  "Harry defended him, numerous times, and he almost hates Malfoy more than you do."

"That's odd, considering Malfoy stole Ginny from Harry—"

"Ron!  That is not fair!"

"And now _you're_ defending the tosser!  He's the spawn of evil, the one who's supposed to take daddy's spot when he grows up!  He's probably already a Death Eater—"

Hermione sighed.  "We're going around in circles here.  We already _had_ this conversation, and we were proven wrong.  We need to square with it and move on."

"I say it still doesn't make any sense."

"What doesn't make sense?  The fact he's a god reincarnate, as well as your sister, Harry, and Nia?"

He frowned and separated from her.  She grabbed his hand, and they sat down on the seat.  "Why them, Hermione?  Harry makes sense, but the rest of them, _especially_ Malfoy . . . they makes no sense!"

Hermione shook her head.  "I don't know, Ron, but Fate is a funny thing.  Why make me a witch?  Both of my parents are Muggles.  It's essentially the same thing."

"Yes, but you're not evil like Malfoy is."

She quirked an eyebrow.  "You're the one still taking Divination."

He felt the tips of his ears turn red.  "But you know that's just a crock class."

She blushed.  "Well . . maybe not.  Ginny's dream was horribly accurate . . . Nia, I think, can See things as they happen, or even before.  I think _Trelawney_ is a crock."

Ron had a mock expression of shock on his face.  "Hermione Granger admitting she may have been wrong?  You-Know-Who must be somewhere now donating to a Muggle orphanage . . ."

She slapped his arm and rolled her eyes.  "Be quiet, you!"

"And she slaps _me_ because I'm right for a change!"

"For a change is right!"

He kissed her in retaliation.

"Mmm . . ." she moaned, when he separated from her and she licked her lips.  "As I was saying, I think I want to investigate this more."

"You being wrong?  I think I do, too."

She slapped his arm and glared at him.  "_Not_ that, or there would be very little to research.  _You_ being wrong on the other hand . . . well, let's just say people could earn degrees in that field of study."

"Love you, too, Hermione," he said sarcastically.

"Oh love, I'm teasing you, honestly," she said with a kiss to his cheek.  "But I want to talk to Nia more.  She's fascinating, don't you think?"

"You say fascinating; I say frightening.  You heard what she did to Crabbe!"

"Not as if he didn't deserve it!"

"I'm not weeping tears over it either, but if she did that to someone of her house, imagine what she could do to a Gryffindor!"

Hermione rolled her eyes.  "Oh _honestly,_ Ron!  You may have to admit not all Slytherins are bad."

Ron glowered at her.

"And besides, she was very worried about Harry and Ginny . . you heard her muttering while she was unconscious!"

He would admit the sight of Nia muttering and squirming in some sort of trance scared him—not only because of her unresponsiveness, but of the things she said.  He held her the entire time, for he was the only one strong enough to do so.  His heart cracked with every plaintive utterance Nia made.

"That was scary . . . to be able to see something so horrific and yet not be able to do anything about it," he admitted.

Hermione nodded.  "Yes . . she cares about Ginny and Harry, Ron.  You have to admit that much."

"She's friends with Malfoy," he said stubbornly.

"Your sister is in _love_ with Malfoy.  Now who do you think is worse for wear?"

He scowled.  "No comment."

"And it seems Harry has feelings for Nia as well . . ."

His frown deepened.  "And I still stick to the thought a spell has been cast over _my_ best friend and _my_ sister, which would cause them to have feelings for them!  It's unnatural!"

Hermione's eyes went skyward.  "Why?"

"You know!  Slytherins think only of bloodlines and money!  Ginny's poor, and Harry had a Muggle mother.  It doesn't make _sense_ for the Slytherin prince and his shadow to like Ginny and Harry."

"But remember what Dumbledore told us?"

"I remember, all right, and his explanation was typical Dumbledore—vague."

"Ron!"

He rolled his eyes.  "The man speaks in riddles!  There's no way my sister, Harry, and the Slytherins are gods!  It makes no sense!"

Hermione sighed.  "There's a reason for everything, Ron.  There's a reason why your sister loves Malfoy, and he in return.  There's a reason why Harry's the Boy Who Lived.  There's a reason for Nia to be so well versed in spells and such, though she is three years younger than we are.  I want to talk with her and Ginny both, perhaps learn that strange language she spoke when she healed your nose."

He wiggled his nose in response and touched it.  "It was definitely not English, love."

"Exactly!  I can study their powers, how they feel to be the reincarnates of gods . . . if their love is the cause of the reincarnations—"

"That's it!"

Hermione frowned.  "That's what?"

"That _has_ to be why Ginny thinks she's in love with the prat!  It's the only logical explanation, mind you."

Hermione looked unconvinced.  "I don't know, Ron.  That seems highly improbable."

Ron was aghast.  "You can't _possibly_ think the ferret has feelings of his _own_ for my sister!"

She shrugged.  "I keep going back to the match Gryffindor versus Ravenclaw last year and seeing the look on his face as he talked to her, of her . . it was similar to how you look at me."

She was blushing now, and Ron never thought she looked more becoming.  "That's a very powerful statement, love.  Do you stand behind it?"

She smiled softly.  "As much as I dislike Malfoy . . . I can't bring myself to discount his feelings for your sister—added to _Harry_ defending him—it makes it all the more compelling.  Malfoy may be a Slytherin, but he's not his father.  Look at Snape and Nia; they're Slytherins as well, but they're on our side."

Ron's face fell.  "Snape is still an arsehole."

"And Nia?"

He shook his head.  "I don't know Nia that well, but it's clear there's something unresolved between her and Harry."

"And she's so young!"

Ron snorted.  "So says the girl who went to the Yule Ball with a bloke four years her senior!"

"Better than being a last resort!"

He turned red but pulled her in his arms.  "Never again will you be a last resort for me.  You're the first and the only, love."

She quirked an eyebrow as she wrapped her arms around his waist.  "Do you stand behind that statement?"

"Firmly and proudly, love," he said as he bent to kiss her.  "Firmly and proudly."

~~~~~~~~~~

She ran into the professor's office, well aware she was late.

_If only I had the power to tell the wanker no . . . but he's too far under my skin for that to happen!_

The Sorting and Feast was very short this year; it was clear parents were sending their children to alternative wizarding schools for fear of Voldemort.  As it was, the prefects' meeting afterward was brief as well, but the meeting with her boyfriend . . not so much.

"It's good to see our gifts to you came in handy, chile."

Ginny jumped at the sound of the voice and walked further inside the room.  The older woman didn't look mad as much as amused.  She smiled at the woman and sat in the chair before the desk.  "Thank you, Professor.  Your foresight was indeed helpful."

She scoffed at Ginny's words and shooed them away.  "Chile, please.  You may as well call me Jamilah—when you're ready, of course, but not in class.  Can't be havin' a mutiny among my students.  But you practically my grandbaby."

"Thank you, Professor."

"Speaking of my grandbaby . . . how is she doin'?  The chile act like she don't wanna talk to nobody."

Ginny shrugged.  "She's fine, I reckon.  But why do you say she won't talk to you?  You've had meetings and such."

Jamilah waved her hands again.  "She'll talk to me about trainin' and things like that, but she won't talk to me about important stuff . . . like _boys . . . _she got a boyfriend yet?"

Ginny giggled and shook her head.  "You mean have she and Harry admitted to each other their feelings?"

Jamilah grinned.  "You a smart one . . . thank the Lawd."

Ginny's countenance fell.  "No.  At the very least, though, Harry's admitted to himself.  That's a start, isn't it?"

Jamilah nodded.  "Starts are good.  But we need finishes.  The war's gonna start soon, as you know, Ginny.  Set and Voldemort will not wait for Nia to buck up her courage and admit her feelin's."

"But she is showing wandless magic, Professor."

"It's erratic and not as powerful as it could be.  What she did to that Crabbe boy last summer was icin' on the cake.  She's extremely strong, Ginny.  She's just scared."

"Love is a scary thing . . ."

Jamilah grinned at her.  "But it's so very important and powerful.  Y'all need time to build up the links as well as train; that's part of the reason I separated y'all . . . you and Draco _have_ been trainin' your powers, haven't you?"

Ginny felt her cheeks heat and squeaked out a yes.  Jamilah seemed skeptical and stared at her for a few moments.  The younger girl shifted under the stare.

"Are you two sexually active?"

Ginny was so taken aback by the question; she couldn't control her outburst.

"NO!"

Jamilah seemed unaffected by it.  "But y'all wanna be, don'tcha?"

Ginny's eyes widened in disbelief at the conversation.  "Professor!"

Jamilah chuckled.  "We'll talk about it when you're ready, then."

Ginny didn't know if she was relieved or frustrated that Jamilah didn't press further.

"Uh, Professor?"

"Yeah, baby?"

"I understand love is an important force behind our magic, and you're worried about Harry and Nia not showing their full potential, but aren't you the least bit concerned of the age difference between them?  He's a seventh year now, and a legal adult.  Nia's still a child in the eyes of the law.  If they fall in love, won't that potentially create problems?"

Jamilah sighed as she sat down in her chair.  "Admittedly . . yes, I am concerned, and 'problems' are always a factor.  But I know my baby is smart; she wouldn't do anythang that would put in herself a bad situation."

"Neither would Harry."

Jamilah nodded.  "Harry is noble, of course, but nobility can get people in a world of trouble."

"You mean what happened between Professor Snape and Nia's mum?"

Jamilah's eyes clouded over.  "That was necessary.  I only hope nothing like that will have to happen again!  We barely avoided it with you . . . I wouldn't stand it if it happened to my Nia . ."

"Harry won't betray her, Professor."

Jamilah gave a snort.  "He has already, or did you forget the kiss he gave you?"

Ginny turned red and scowled.  "No, I didn't forget."

"Neither has Nia.  The chile is an emotional packrat—keeps everythang inside and forgets nothin'.  She's strugglin' against her feelings for Harry."

"And yet you want me to bring them together?"

"For better or for worse, yes."

"She'll know what I'm trying to do."

"She's a Slytherin for a reason, Ginny."

"I don't know whether to treat that as a roundabout insult or not."

Jamilah laughed.  "My baby was a Gryffindor—a flippin' good one, too—each house has their strengths and weaknesses."

"I wish people would realize that," she said sadly.

Jamilah had a knowing gleam in her eye.  "By 'people,' do you mean your brothers?"

Ginny scowled and crossed her arms over her chest.  "They can be the biggest prats sometimes . . . Ron in particular!  Just before I came here, he'd been giving the evil eye to Draco the entire time during the prefects' meeting.  It was all I could do not to hex him!"

"They love you and want to protect you, baby."

"I know . . . but I'm sixteen now!  Shouldn't they trust my judgment?  Draco's good, if still a bit spoiled and bratty—"

"A _bit_?"

Ginny sucked her teeth but laughed.  "Oh _fine . . ._ he's a lot spoiled and bratty!"

"Let's keep it real, chile.  The truth shall set you free!"

She sighed in contentment.  "But he's wonderful to me . . . he saved my life—figuratively and literally.  I'd be so lost without him . ."

Jamilah grinned.  "You sound like a character from my soaps . . love me some _Days of Our Lives_!"

"Soap?  What kind of soap do you use that has characters in it?"

Jamilah laughed.  "Aw Lawd, I forgot you were a pureblood.  I meant soap operas, very melodramatic T.V. shows."

"Ah."

Jamilah shook her head.  "But that's neither here nor there . . ."

Ginny hesitated a moment, and her cheeks burned.  It would be awkward talking about this with Jamilah, but she really wanted to ask the question.  "Professor?"

"Yeah, baby?"

"Is there something about the reincarnation that makes me _want_ to be sexually active with him now?"

Jamilah gave her a weird look, and Ginny's embarrassment increased.  "What you _really _askin' is why you get all worked up at the mere sight of him?"

Her entire face was red; she could feel it.  "Yes."

"The link, Ginny.  You've said that you loved each other, and the only thing left to do is to consummate that love.  Your bodies yearn for each other constantly.  It does have a lot to do with the reincarnation, but it's mostly because you two are so powerful right now."

"So we have to have sex to take the edge off?  That just sounds like any horny, teenage couple."

"On the surface, it does . . . but there's another reason why I separated y'all from Harry and Nia."

"Oh?"

Jamilah nodded.  "Your wandless magic is stronger when you two are together, but along with that, it's more erratic."

"I've been controlling it . . ."

"How long does the control usually last, Ginny?"

She blushed.  "Not that long . . ."

"And why, Ginny?"

"Because we end up kissing each other or something like that . ."

Jamilah nodded.  "Exactly.  You two would do nothin' but distract Harry and Nia from _their_ training sessions with your antics . . . possibly make them want to gouge their eyes out, and they need their eyes—mental note: get Harry contacts."

"Why does he need contacts?"

"Pettigrew and Voldemort will exploit any weakness they can find.  Get rid of Harry's glasses, the boy becomes blind.  We can't have a blind Harry Potter fighting the forces of evil, now can we?"

"But Dumbledore wears glasses."

Jamilah sucked her teeth.  "Dumbledore also scares the mess out of Voldemort and Pettigrew . . . besides, I have it under authority Dumbledore wears them merely because he likes the way they look on him."

Ginny laughed.  "He doesn't really need them, does he?"

"Nope."

A few more giggles escaped from Ginny before she sobered.  Jamilah looked at her in a maternal fashion as confusion appeared on Ginny's face.

"So . . . are you saying you _want_ me to have sex?"

The professor shook her head.  "Never, Ginny.  I never want you to have sex."

"But you said—"

"Sex will not solve your problems, baby.  Consummation of your love will."

Ginny gave a sardonic laugh.  "I cannot believe my professor is telling me to 'consummate' with my boyfriend."

"Believe me, I've had harder discussions with my own child about this sort of thing, and I remember wanting to _die_ when my mother and Dumbledore talked to me about it—"

"Dumbledore?  Why would Dumbledore want to . . "

"He's my grandfather, Ginny."

Her mouth dropped open.  "Grandfather?"

Jamilah nodded.

"You mean Nia is—"

Jamilah nodded again.

"How?"

"Long story, baby, long story."

"This is too wild!  It all makes sense now!  Dumbledore is some sort of god, and so was his wife.  I remember the gods saying something about it briefly."

"Yes.  Dumbledore is the reincarnate of Thoth, who taught Isis much about sorcery and magic.  Clearly, he cannot do as much now because he is Headmaster, which is why he left the task to me."

"And you are—"

"Sekhmet.  I'm the reincarnate of a vengeful goddess, to destroy those who talk ill of the Father, the creator . . ."

"A wonder you are the DADA professor," Ginny said wryly.

"It serves its purpose," Jamilah said.

"And Nephthys and Isis are twins . ."

"Which is why you're practically my grandbaby.  Nia wrote to me about you.  You and Draco were the first people she talked to me about, and I knew everything was going to plan."

"How do you feel about Draco?"

"He's perfect for you, and my Nia.  What better big brother could my baby ask for?  And what better man to be the reincarnate of Osiris than he?"

Ginny frowned.  "I did some research . . . Osiris didn't do much of anything in the way of fighting Set.  He seemed to get . . . well . . . killed."

"That's true.  But Osiris' powers were more in strategy.  He's the ruler of the underworld, as you well know."

Ginny smiled.  "He practically runs Slytherin House . . .and they live underground in the dungeons."

Jamilah grinned.  "As I said—smart girl.  But he is the weakest god, magically speaking, among you."

Ginny snorted.  "He's not going to like hearing that."

Jamilah waved the comment away.  "He'll get over it.  But he does have one of the strongest Animagus forms of all of you."

Ginny took pause at that bit of information.  "We're Animagi?"

"Yes.  Two sky ones and two land ones . . . but one of Draco's forms is both aquatic and land."

"How so?  Is he a snake?"

"No, he's a crocodile . . . Ironically enough, that would be you—one of your forms, anyway."

"Me?  _I'm_ a snake?"

"You are a Parseltongue . . ."

Ginny's mouth opened, but she snapped it closed quickly.  "That can't be possible!  That wasn't me . . . that was—that was him!"

Jamilah shook her head.  "That was you, Ginny.  He just awakened you to it."

Ginny became panicked.  "But Parseltongues are evil!"

"Is Harry evil?"

She calmed down.  "No . . he's not."

"And neither are you.  Bear in mind, chile, that's only part of you.  And how else would you know if you're a Parseltongue or not?  When was the last time you came across a snake?"

Ginny laughed.  "Does Umbridge count?"

Jamilah shuddered.  "That horrendous woman . . gah.  No, she don't.  She more of the dog variety anyhow."

Ginny snickered.  "Wow."

"Anyway.  Yes, so the snake is one.  But your primary Animagus is the vulture—the griffon vulture to be exact."

Ginny scowled.  "Vultures?  Vultures feed off carrion—oh, how fitting.  A Weasley getting leftovers as usual."

Jamilah glared at her.  "Don't ever say that.  Vultures were among the most revered birds in ancient Egypt.  Their wingspan is so vast people thought of a goddess encompassing her protection over them.  Vulture eyesight is among the best, and they are loud and formidable.  She is the eye for the pharaoh, soaring high above the danger to alert him to it.  Vultures protect, love, and fight.  It's a really beautiful bird."

"A vulture!"

"Would you rather be a roach?"

Ginny blushed.  "Nope!  Vulture's good!"

"Draco's other form is a bull."

Ginny snorted.  "Now _that's_ fitting!"

"I agree!"

"What's Harry?"

Jamilah rolled her eyes.  "In a matter of no surprise—a lion."

"That's his primary," Ginny stated.

"Yes.  His secondary is the elephant.  Elephants were secondary to Apedemak, and he would often transform into one if circumstances called for it."

"Is the only reason Harry's a Parseltongue because of Voldemort, then?"

Jamilah nodded.  "That's part of the reason.  The other is because you taught him."

"_I_ taught him?"

"Yes . . . Nephthys taught Apedemak Parseltongue.  Nephthys learned it from Set, of course."

Ginny shuddered.  "Ugh."

"History can't be changed, baby, only learned from."

"And it doesn't have to be repeated, either."

Jamilah smiled kindly.  "Good girl."

"And Nia?"

"Hers is the black kite."

"She's a kite?"

"A kite is a type of bird.  Kites are very small but powerful creatures, and they also feed off carrion, if that makes you feel better."

"Mildly."

"They are totally carnivorous.  They also kill . . . they can't kill anything larger than a rat."

Ginny's eyebrow quirked.  "Good riddance, Pettigrew."

Jamilah grinned.  "My sentiments exactly."

"What's her other form?"

"The unicorn."

Ginny gasped.  "You mean like the ones in the Forbidden Forest!"

The older woman shook her head.  "No, Ginny.  Those are of the European breed . . the kinds that dominate Western folklore.  She transforms into their ancestor—Nia's unicorn has wings and no horn.  It's a gold unicorn."

"Were they all gold?"

Jamilah shook her head again.  "No, they weren't.  They could be purple, white, green, red, black—but Nia will turn gold."

"How do you know?"

"Her eyes.  Unicorns turn the color of their eyes.  If she had blue eyes, she'd turn white, however.  But she doesn't.  If she had green eyes like Harry, she'd turn green.  If she had brown eyes like you, she'd turn brown."

"Would she turn silver if she had Draco's eyes?"

"She'd be white."

"Oh . . . wow . . ."

"I know . . . but she doesn't know that yet.  In fact, you're the only one who knows about the transformations."

"When will we learn this?"

"You and Draco will, because you have the magical power to do so.  Nia and Harry have to wait a bit longer."

Ginny blushed.  "Oh yes . . . the magical powers."

"We did go way off topic, didn't we?"

"Not that I didn't mind the detour . . ."

Jamilah regarded her for a moment.  "I know . . . I know this is an overwhelming thing to learn, and cursed Western tradition has taught you to regard lovemaking as something taboo . . . bad even . . . but it's not.  Why do you think Voldemort wanted an heir?"

"To carry on his whacked out genealogy."

Jamilah nodded.  "Blood ties are a powerful thing, but love is more so.  Why do you think your parents are so strong?"

Ginny smiled.  "They love each other."

"Yes.  And so were my grandparents."

"Dumbledore and his wife."

"I've heard stories about them . . . truly amazing stories . . Dumbledore wouldn't be half as feared if he didn't meet my grandmother."

"And I'll bet my brother and Hermione will be strong as well."

Jamilah nodded.  "Very.  Very competent witches and wizards, for a reason, have surrounded you, baby.  Nothing is left up to chance."

"So . . . I have to make love with Draco now . . "

Jamilah shook her head.  "You can't just 'go and make love'.  You have to wait for the time to be right."

"But how will we know?"

"You will know.  Trust me on that."

Ginny frowned.  "Will I forget this conversation when I leave?"

Jamilah grinned.  "Parts of it."

Ginny rolled her eyes.  "Three guesses to which part . . . and the first two don't count."

She laughed.  "The only reason you'll forget is because you don't want to remember, Ginny."

Ginny blushed.  "It's still weird to hear your professor condone such a thing."

Jamilah laughed shortly.  "Believe me, honey, I'm doin' you a _favor_ by removing this conversation from your memory!  I couldn't look at my mama and Dumbledore for a good three months after that conversation."

"Will you Obliviate me?"

"No, chile.  As soon as you leave that door, you'll forget."

Ginny stood then and felt a sense of sadness and loss envelop her.  Jamilah smiled sadly.

"I know it's hard, chile, but it's for the best.  Not even the gods knew about the power of consummation until after it happened."

Ginny's eyes widened.  "That's why Snape had to—"

"Yes."

"It makes sense now!"

"Yes."

"Does Nia know about that?"

"No, and she can't know . . . not yet anyway."

"But why—"

"It's almost time for curfew, Ginny."

She realized that was a polite way to tell her to leave.  Ginny smiled apologetically and inclined her head.  "Thank you for meeting with me, Professor."

Jamilah came around the desk and hugged Ginny's shoulders.  "My pleasure, honey.  You will do great honor to the essence of Nephthys.  Fate chose wisely."

With one last smile, Ginny left the office, and as she did, her head felt tingly.  She frowned at the sensation but thought nothing more of it.  She made sure her prefect's badge was showing as she made her way to the Tower.  She muttered the password ("thestral") and walked inside to the common room.  Ron and Harry were playing wizard's chess, with Harry enduring his customary trouncing whenever he played Ron.

"Where's everyone?"

Harry glared at the chessboard before greeting her with a smile.  "They went to bed already . . ."

"Why?"

Ron snorted.  "Hermione."

"What about Hermione?"

"Remember the power trip she went on when she first became a prefect?"

Ginny groaned.  "No . ."

Harry nodded.  "Yes.  It's much worse."

"I'll go talk to her then," she sighed.

Ron gave her a grateful look.  "Please?  I really don't want to relive fifth year!  She's absolutely impossible when she doesn't listen to reason!"

Ginny snorted.  "I can't believe _you_ are talking about _reason!_"

He sniffed and went back to the game.  "Knight to C3!"

She and Harry shared a knowing look, and he snickered.  "Night, boys."

"Night, Gin."

"Night, Ginny."

She gave both a kiss on the cheek and climbed up the girls' stairs.  The door to the Head Girl's suite was partially open, and she knocked quietly.

"Hermione?"

There was no reply, and Ginny became slightly worried.  She pushed open the door gently and peered inside.  "Hermione?"

There was still no answer, and Ginny was starting to become worried.  Ginny walked fully into the room, and she couldn't help but feel a bit envious.  It wasn't any bigger than the other rooms in the Tower, but because only person occupied it, the room seemed humongous.  True to Hermione, it was well organized and neat, the bookcase among the first things completely set up.  Her trunk was open, with items still inside, and her bed was made.

"Hermione?"

"Ginny?"

She let out a squeak and whirled towards the voice.  Hermione looked at her with confusion as she rubbed a towel through her hair.  Ginny cursed her irrationality as Hermione stepped out of the bathroom door, where steam poured out.  The older girl's skin was flushed from the shower she just took, and Ginny offered an apologetic smile.

"Sorry for intruding."

Hermione smiled good-naturedly.  "That's all right.  You seemed frantic."

Ginny gave a self-deprecating snort.  "Well, if you talked to Ron, he would give the impression something was wrong with you."

Hermione rolled her eyes.  "He must understand that I'm Head Girl now!  I can't just blow off my responsibilities because he wants to play."

"Did you have a big row?"

Hermione pouted.  "Not Yule Ball big, but it was big enough to send everyone to their rooms early.  I feel awful, Ginny."

"And regardless of what was said, he still loves you."

She gave a small smile.  "I know, Ginny.  And Merlin knows I love him, too."

Ginny sat beside her and grasped her hand.  "Believe in it, Hermione.  It's a powerful thing."

Hermione smiled with a little frown.  "Since when did you become so wise?  Is that the goddess talking?"

She nudged her with her shoulder.  "Partly.  But it's me and common sense talking.  Especially with my choice in men, I have to believe it's not all for naught."

Hermione seemed contemplative.  "I believe in his love for you," she said after a while.

Ginny smiled and squeezed her hand.  "That really means a lot to hear you say that.  Thank you."

She chuckled a bit.  "It _is _a lot to say it!  Ron and I were talking about it on the train . . . I told him Malfoy looks at you the way he looks at me."

Ginny blushed.  "Really?"

Hermione nodded and smiled.  "Really.  That's how I know he's sincere.  No Slytherin could fake that much affection without having it be truthful."

"Gee, thanks!"

"Nothing personal, Ginny.  I think Nia is a lovely Slytherin.  I'm glad she didn't turn into a Pansy or a Millicent!"

Both girls shuddered at the thought.  "I think Harry agrees with your sentiments, Hermione."

She looked conspiratorially at her.  "You noticed as well, Ginny?"

"Want to help me get them together?"

Hermione seemed to hesitate.  "I don't know, Ginny.  Harry's not had much luck with women."

Ginny felt an irrational stab of guilt but shook it off.  "That's because they've all been wrong for him.  Nia's the one."

"Because of the essence of the gods?"

Ginny nodded.  "That's part of it."

"Despite her being a Slytherin?"

She laughed.  "Hermione, I do believe it's _because_ she is."

Hermione seemed to consider this.  "I want to get to know her better.  In fact, I want to know more about this essence you have.  I find it fascinating."

Ginny grinned.  "You and your thirst for knowledge."

"Forgive me if I'm intrigued."

"I think it'll be good for all of us . . . to have a practical hypothesis as to why us."

"So you'll let me, then?"

Ginny smiled and held out her hand, which Hermione accepted gladly.  "Welcome aboard."


	3. Three

_Three_

He collapsed in the chair heavily, hoping the confined easy chair would still his trembling body.  He gripped the arms of the chair tightly and thought it shook from the force of his hold.  Tonight had been disturbing, and he almost hadn't made it out alive.

It was getting too close for comfort, and he needed out.

He sighed and ran a hand over his face.  He was getting too old for this . . his heart couldn't take it—even if he was only thirty-seven years old.  The mental stress he endured during every meeting was enough to drive him insane, and the keeping up appearances grew more tiresome with each passing gathering.

The Cruciatus Curse was particularly painful today . . considering it was a very upset Pettigrew who cast it.  He was sure Lucius would've joined in . . . if he weren't subjugated to it by Voldemort himself.

The teacher and the father should've known the Great Hope of the Dark Side was actually a reincarnate god for the good.

_How silly of us not to notice._

That wasn't true.  He knew all along—from the moment Nia befriended Draco, he knew they'd found their Osiris.  Isis and Osiris shared a bond as old as time, and Draco was _never_ nice to anyone, let alone a new, Muggle-raised, _poor_ American witch.  But Nia knew how to pick them, and pick them well she did.

_Except for the unfortunate taste of choosing Potter as a mate._

He rolled his eyes.  He would have to get over his grudge at some point in his life, and if the situation between Draco and his father didn't teach him anything else, it did teach him this—the sins of the father were _not_ necessarily the sins of the son.

_If only the cliché were as easily put to use in the practical sense as it was in the figurative._

He sighed and conjured a glass of water.  His throat was parched from all the screaming he did.  It didn't help that every time he moved it felt as if millions of fires were going off at once.  He didn't think his usual pain-relief potion would heal his sore body this time.

He cradled his forehead in his hands and closed his eyes, taking deep breaths as he decided to wait out the pain until it became bearable to walk again.  So deep was his concentration he didn't register the door hissing open and closed.

"Severus."

He opened his eyes then closed them again with a groan.  He didn't need this right now.

"Go away."

His guest chuckled at the gruff order, and Severus' mood grew fouler.  Was the person daft?

"Do you want me to help?"

"Leave me be, Jamilah."

"Is that any way to talk to your mother-in-law?"

"Yes, especially after fourteen years being treated as crap underneath your shoe."

"Cry me a river, why don'tcha?"

Severus winced as he opened his eyes.

"Make it quick."

Jamilah huffed and glared at him.  "You know, I offered to heal you.  At least give me _some_ credit."

"I don't give my students partial credit on a test.  Why should I give it to you?"

"Who said this was a test?"

Severus managed a smirk despite the pain.  "I did.  You failed.  Now leave."

Jamilah clucked her teeth and placed her hands on either side of his head.  "_Talqo tkas paxre._"

Immediately the searing pain he felt vanished, and strength and ease appeared.  He looked at Jamilah warily and sighed.

"You did all of that just to hear me say thank you . . . you evil, evil woman."

Jamilah laughed and kissed his forehead.  Severus scowled but didn't wipe the place her lips met his skin.

"You always impossibly cranky when you come from them meetin's."

"Let's have two powerful, angry wizards subject you to Cruciatus, and let's see how you feel."

"Oh waah."

Severus rolled his eyes and left his seat.  "Is there a purpose to this inquisition?"  He conjured two teacups and a teapot.  It was clear the woman wouldn't be leaving, and he figured he'd be minimally cordial to the mother of the woman he loved and the grandmother to the child he loved.

"Yes, actually."  Her tone grew serious, and he frowned.

"Well?"

Jamilah sighed, and his frown deepened as he poured the tea into the cups.  He knew she liked two cubes of sugar, and he filled her cup accordingly.

"It's about Draco."

"Oh?"

"How is he?"

He paused his movements as he pondered the question.  How was Draco Malfoy, indeed?

He snorted.  "Do you mean before or after he jeopardized our advantage by pulling the stunt he did at the Shrieking Shack?"

Jamilah sighed.  "After."

He paused before replying.  "Snarkier than ever.  Snaps at people for no reason, one hell of a Head Boy however.  He demands order and obedience."

"Sounds like someone I know," she said, giving him a pointed look.

"Once again I ask: is there a purpose to this inquisition?"

"How are Occlumency and Legilimency?"

He sighed as he turned with the two teacups, offering one to her before sitting in his armchair again.  "Not as good as it could be, I'll admit.  He seems overly distracted, and his thoughts always go to that Weasley girl."

"Exactly.  Severus, they need to have sex."

Severus Snape did something he never thought he'd do—spat out his drink.

"What?"

The spray from his mouth was currently suspended in mid-air as Jamilah cast a disgusted eye upon it.  Her palm was facing the projectiles briefly before she waved her hand, and the droplets disappeared.

"That was nasty, Severus."

"Please forgive me for the shock of hearing a professor condoning sexual relations with one of _my_ students."

"Shucks!  Ain't like _I'm_ havin' relations with the boy!"

Severus shuddered violently at the comment.

"Ain't like he could handle me anyway . . ."

"Oh dear _Merlin!_"

Jamilah smirked at his reaction and looked at him smugly.  "It's been a while for you, hasn't it, old boy?"

"I will _not_ discuss that with you."

Jamilah rolled her eyes.  "Whatever.  You know, if you weren't so damn surly, you could find yourself a nice girl.  You're too young to live as a miser."

He raised an eyebrow at her.  "When was the last time _you_ had 'relations'?"

She glared at him.  "You treadin' on thin ice, boy."

"You've already slipped through."

Jamilah sucked her teeth again and crossed her arms before her.  "_Anyway_.  Regardless of what you think, he and Ginny need to do _something._  It's hamperin' more than helpin'."

"I can give them a potion to help them clear their lust-filled minds."

Jamilah huffed.  "Ain't no damn potion gonna help diddly!  They _need_ to give into the urge, Severus.  Kinda like you did with my daughter . . ."

This time he merely choked on his tea instead of spitting it out.  "_Jamilah!_"

She rolled her eyes.  "Oh _please,_ boy!  Don't _Jamilah_ me!  I ain't that old, and I'm definitely not crazy.  Like I ain't know you was my baby's first."

This line of conversation was worse than any Cruciatus Curse he could endure.  "Old woman, why are you discussing this with me?"

The teacup he held became impossibly hot, and he dropped it quickly, the liquid leaving a stain on his carpet.

"_Don't_ call me old!"

Severus rolled his eyes as he magicked the stain out of his carpet.  "Forgive me for repeating myself, but _why_ are we talking about this?"

She sighed and sobered.  "It's going to start soon—the war.  They need to be prepared.  I fully expect the first curse to be thrown before the New Year, which only gives us three months to prepare—not counting September.  We have just completed the first week of school, and _no one_ has improved during training.  I'm growing increasingly worried, and the distractions they face can easily be solved if they just _consummate_ their feelings."

He grew serious as well.  "There are plans being made . . . I don't know them because I've fallen out of grace with the Dark Lord and Pettigrew for 'not knowing' Mr. Malfoy had the essence of Osiris in him.  The wild fire in their eyes is brighter than ever before, but I couldn't extract their thoughts because I was so crazed with pain."

"You need to talk to Draco.  I've already had a discussion with Ginny."

He snorted.  "Does she remember it?"

"No, not consciously anyway."

"May have to do the same with Mr. Malfoy."

Jamilah shrugged.  "Perhaps.  But have this conversation soon.  The sooner they get back to training the better off we'll all be."

Severus frowned.  "What of Nia and Harry?"

She grinned at him.  "Don't worry about them.  They haven't even admitted it to _themselves_ yet.  They still have a ways to go."

He was confused.  "That may very well be, and while I have a bit of relief that my daughter won't have to have this conversation with you yet, what of their powers and their training?  Surely it's not up to the par it could be?"

She shook her head.  "You are right, Severus, but she is young yet, and they still don't know she exists.  Harry will be fine on the powers he has now.  He's strong, no doubt, and with Draco and Ginny helping, he'll be fine."

"Do you think it is a good idea to keep Nia out of the line of fire?"

Her face hardened.  "One would _think,_ since you the chile's father, you wouldn't _want_ her in harm's way!"

"But what is the point of training her if she doesn't do anything with it?  We would've done better putting her under Fidelius and hiding her somewhere!"

Jamilah collapsed in her chair tiredly.  "I just don't want her to get hurt . . ."

"That's unavoidable.  She'll have to be hurt.  She's a goddess and very important to the cause."

"Just like my baby was, and now she's dead because of it!"

Severus sighed and ran a hand over his face.  "Jamilah, you know better than almost anyone sacrifices have to be made."

"But _not_ when they can be avoided!"

"Jamilah—"

"Malika served her purpose and served it well, but Nia does _not_ need to go out into the field before her time."

"You are not a Seer, Jamilah."

"But I _am_ a grandmother!"

"Nia will go when she is called, and not even you will be able to stop her."

"And you're just gonna let it _happen_?"

"I can't stop her.  She'll be too powerful."

"Damn Set!"

"Join the club."

There was silence now, and Severus drifted into his thoughts.  He wanted Nia safe from harm as much as Jamilah did—possibly even more so.  But he could no more stop fate than live forever, and he squared with that a long time ago.  Every decision had a consequence—good or bad—and it was the delicate charge of choosing the right decision that affected the outcomes in life.  He chose _not_ to stop Nia whenever the time came.  Fighting it would prove futile and even exhausting.  He tried to fight Fate once, and it almost cost him Malika.  He learned his lesson the hard way, even if everything worked out in the end.  He spent nine blessed years with the woman he loved and a child who was more precious to him than air.  He would not dishonor Malika by locking their child up from her purpose in life—even if he slept uneasily for the rest of his.

She looked at him sadly.  "I never did thank you, you know . . . for all you've done for my family."

"I don't need your thanks."

She regarded him with a small smile.  "Yes, you do.  You need to know I really don't hate you as much as I let on."

"And now a great weight has been lifted off my shoulders."

Jamilah rolled her eyes and chuckled.  "I know you're relieved, despite your sarcasm, Severus.  Malika always wanted us to get along."

"That she did, but it was hard, considering every time you saw me you wanted to hex me into the next millennium."

"You hurt my baby."

"As unfortunate as that was, it was necessary."

"Don't make it hurt any less."

He idly ran a hand over his Mark.  "No, it doesn't . . ."

She rose from her seat and kneeled before him, taking a hand in his.  "You've been a wonderful father to my grandbaby, Severus, and you made my Malika happy in the last years of her life.  I can't thank you enough for that, and I'm honored to call you my son."

He exhaled slowly and offered her a small smile.  "Your words are humbling, Jamilah."

"And honest."

He squeezed her hand and smirked.  "I do hope this doesn't affect our sparring matches.  They are most entertaining, and they keep me on my toes."

"Of course not."

"Good; for a moment I was afraid I would have to suffer Sirius' weak attempts, and Slytherins do love worthy adversaries."

She lifted an eyebrow at him.  "He _almost_ stole Malika from you."

He scowled.  "Out of my sight, old woman."

She grinned and gave him a wet kiss on this cheek.  "That's for callin' me old."

He secured a handkerchief and wiped the residue off his cheek, chuckling as he heard the door hiss closed.  Jamilah was like Dumbledore in many respects; he admitted to himself he'd come to see her as a mother figure—much different than his own, however.  His own mother was very sweet, very accommodating.  She rarely raised her voice and was the most mild-mannered woman he ever knew.  Jamilah . . . Jamilah was all spice and sass—so unlike any mother figure he was used to seeing.  The mothers of his social circle were all to be seen and not heard—ornaments to be a testament to the husband's virility and acumen in securing a perfect wife.  His mother was perfectly fine to play the role as well, something he grew to resent her for as he got older.  He never did understand why men wanted a woman who would puppet answers when told, as if they were dummies and their husbands were ventriloquists.  He treasured the independent mind and vowed his wife would as well.  A man was only as strong as the woman he had, and to have a simpering, vacant spouse only served to highlight the man's lack of masculinity.

Case in point—Lucius Malfoy.

Lucius, at the beginning of his tenure as a Death Eater, was very persuasive and feared.  Then again, Narcissa was suffering a broken heart, and a women scorned was a force to be reckoned with.  But as soon as she had Draco, her attention focused elsewhere, and with it, Lucius' influence over other Death Eaters.  When Voldemort fell, so did Lucius' loyalty to the cause, and he cried Imperius Curse.

_Weakling_.

For all of the man's threats and sadism, he was weak—a weak man who would follow the very thing he claimed to curse.  Many of the Death Eaters were full of hot air, but they had the protection of the label Death Eater, and with that came artificial power.  They all wondered why Potter and the Order did not fear them, and Severus had to bite his tongue numerous times for fear of losing the advantage for the Order.  The only men who _really_ scared him were Lestrange and Pettigrew—both had very strong women behind them or, at the very least, _wanted_ strong women behind them.  A woman's mind was cunning, saw all angles of a matter before deciding, and it was smart.

It also had the ability come up with things that would drive a man up a wall.

_Mr. Potter will have a time with Nia, then._

Severus knew the thought was evil, but he could only imagine Nia arguing Potter's ear off about something—more than likely her yearning to fight.  Potter, like his father before him, was horribly noble, and that meant keeping those he loved out of harm's way.  Lily wouldn't listen to James, and it was only fitting that any Potter wife be as much trouble to her husband as possible.

He loved Lily for that.

That wasn't to say Lily and James didn't love each other, for they did, but Lily was not an easy conquest for the egotistical Potter.  James Potter had to earn Lily Evans' love, and Harry Potter would have to do the same with Nia Roberts.

He hoped to Merlin his daughter would make it as difficult as possible.  Potter had a horrible entitlement complex—even worse than Malfoy's on some level—and that was a hard thing to come by.

Snape snickered and conjured a new cup of tea just as the door hissed open again.  Snape raised an amused eyebrow as his guest walked in with an air of superiority.

"Jamilah told me to come here."

Severus said nothing and took a sip from his tea.  Once he got his fill, he put his drink down and fixed his face to mirror seriousness.

"I thought we had an arrangement."

Draco was unapologetic, even smirking at his comment.

_Smug little wanker.  I wonder how he would react if I told him he looked as his father did before Voldemort subjected him to the Cruciatus Curse._

"Better me than you, Professor."

He lifted a curious eyebrow.  "Really?  How so?"

"I'm the last person they would think defected from them; thus all their efforts will be to destroy me, and they'll leave you alone."

"How considerate of you . . . but you do realize my role will be exposed at some point.  The Conception Ritual was the perfect opportunity."

Draco scowled.  "How could I, in good conscience, _allow_ what they were trying to do to Ginny?  Just because _you_ couldn't do anything doesn't mean _I_ was going to just stand around and let it happen!"

Severus shot him a look that would freeze fire.  "Listen carefully, Malfoy.  You'd do well to keep your opinions to yourself, especially when pertaining to matters of which you have no knowledge.  Understand me?"

"Clearly."

He set his teacup down and put his fingers in a steeple.  "Your devotion to Miss Weasley is commendable, Mr. Malfoy, but you must be aware there are others beyond her to which you must have care."

"_Not_ at the expense of Ginny!"

He regarded Draco for a moment.  "You can be a selfish little bugger when you want to be."

Draco smirked.  "I'm a Malfoy.  I get what I want."

"Set will not give a shit _what_ your last name is.  All he cares is you are in the way of getting something he wants.  He killed the essence within you all those years ago . . . don't be mistaken into believing he won't do it again."

Draco glared at him.  "You mean as you almost did in the Shrieking Shack."

"I saved your scrawny little neck, _Osiris._  Pettigrew was two seconds away from getting off an AK.  If I hadn't stunned you and told Miss Weasley to Portkey you out, all _three _of you would be dead by now."

He looked shocked by that revelation.  "But—but how—"

"You're not the only one who made alternate plans.  Who do you think told Mr. Potter to go the Shack in the first place?"

"He has the connection with Voldemort."

"Yes, he does, but he has the brains of a newt.  He would've gone in wand blazing, and the cover would've been blown far earlier than necessary."

"Earlier than necessary?"

Severus curled his upper lip.  "It seems, Mr. Malfoy, your earlier assessment of the circumstances were correct; Dumbledore thought it best to expose you first, for it would only be a matter of time before Set realized just _exactly_ who you were, and that would've created more problems than solutions.  I applaud you on your foresight.  The _problem_, however, occurred when you decided to make a Gryffindor decision to go in without consulting those who had the ability to help."

"Jamilah helped . . "

"Jamilah helped _Nia_, not you.  The dress would've protected Ginny from any type of Dark magic for seventy-two hours.  You relied on the skills of a thirteen year old girl—"

"The earrings worked!"

"_Only_ because Nia asked her grandmother for the appropriate charm.  I'm glad one of you isn't so blinded by love you can't see reason."

"I can see reason," Draco muttered.

"When was the last time you and Miss Weasley made progress in your training sessions?"

It was at this moment Severus wished he had a camera; it wasn't every day a Malfoy was caught blushing.

"No answer?" Severus asked rhetorically.  "I thought so . . . this segues nicely into the second reason of the conversation."

"Which is?"

Severus lifted an eyebrow as he took another sip of his tea.  He dragged out the process, watching Draco slip into a posture of apathy.

_Perfect_.

Severus cradled the cup in his hands and looked at Draco with a blank expression.

"Mr. Malfoy, you are to have relations with Miss Weasley at your earliest convenience."

He smothered a laugh as the younger man blanched and succumbed to a sudden, violent coughing fit.

"Excuse me, sir?" Draco asked once he got control of himself.

"I believe my speech was more than comprehensible."

Draco sputtered before regaining his wits.  "Surely you cannot be serious!"

"As a heart attack, Mr. Malfoy."

Draco's face was frozen incredulity.  "You're telling me to have s_ex!_"

"Of course not, Mr. Malfoy.  What kind of professor and Head of House would I be if I told you to do such a thing?"  Snape conjured a teacup and poured the drink inside it.  "Tea?"

Draco took it gratefully and sipped long from it.  Severus thought the sting would hurt in the morning.

"I'm telling you to consummate the love you have for the girl."

Draco took a rather large gulp of his drink and winced as it went down.

"Are you quite all right, Mr. Malfoy?"

He scowled.  "This is ridiculous."

Severus became very serious then.  "No.  What is _ridiculous_ is the fact you and Miss Weasley cannot keep your hands off of each other long enough to have a productive training session.  What is ridiculous is the fact _you_ cannot focus long enough in your classes and in your sessions with me to improve your skills in mental defenses because you are in a perpetual lust-fog.  Your yearning for each other is hurting more than helping, and if consummation is the only way to get you two up to par, then so be it.  The Dark Lord and Pettigrew will exploit any weakness you have, and the affection between you and Miss Weasley is supposed to be a strength, not something to exploit."

Draco stared into his teacup a long while before responding.  "Do you think by consummating our love, our powers will increase?"

"Jamilah seems to think so."

The younger man frowned.  "Does it matter if we're virgins or not?"

"Mr. Malfoy . . . do you want to know why Pettigrew wanted Miss Weasley?"

"Because she has the essence of Nephthys."

Severus nodded.  "That is part of it.  But it is mostly because she was an untouched maiden . . . copulation with a virgin creates very powerful consequences.  Not to say if Miss Weasley _wasn't_ a virgin, Pettigrew wouldn't still want her, but there would be no need for such an elaborate Conception Ritual.  The Death Eaters would've violated her as they would any other slag and kept her until the child was born."

"What of the child?"

"Born of a woman who wasn't a virgin before the Conception Ritual?"

"Yes."

Severus took a sip of tea before replying.  "The child would be powerful, no doubt, but weaker than a child who was born of a deflowered woman at the Ritual."

Draco seemed to struggle slightly.  "Was Nia's mother a virgin before her Conception Ritual?"

Severus' eyes never strayed from Draco's.  "No."

"So Nia isn't as strong as she could've been?"

"Malika's Ritual wasn't typical of a Dark Conception Ritual."

Draco frowned.  "Why?"

Severus hesitated but decided to answer anyway.  The information the boy gleaned now could save Ginny if a similar situation arose again.  "It's a complicated thing . . . but Nia's mother and I consummated our love before she was turned in for the Ritual."

Draco's eyes rose slightly.  "Oh.  Well . . . why couldn't you be the, uh . . ."

"I had been touched by darkness already.  Nia had to be free of that."

"But Pettigrew—"

"Turned into the form of Caleb Johnson.  Caleb Johnson had not been touched by darkness; therefore, he could sire Nia safely.  Nia had to be born in chaos and despair, not of it."

"But because you and Nia's mother were true lovers, your consummation activated a necessary magic or something?"

Severus nodded.  "In a sense, yes.  True love had to be present—both within the mother and at the Ritual."

Draco sighed deeply.  "And to think, it almost worked for the snake this time."

"But that is over and done now, Mr. Malfoy."

Draco looked into the fire a moment.  "Professor Snape—I think I want to be Obliviated.  I don't want to make love to Ginny with the thought of it as an assignment in the back of my head."

Severus smirked but nodded.  "I can honor that, Mr. Malfoy."  He lifted his wand, but Draco shook his head.  "Mr. Malfoy?"

"You had a Death Eater's meeting tonight."

It was more a statement than a question, but Severus nodded anyway.  "Yes."

It seemed Draco was locked in an internal debate; he nodded when he was ready to respond.  "How was Lucius?"

"In a lot of pain for the majority of the meeting."

Draco's lip curled.  "Does he have any idea where Mother and I are?"

"About as much as his ability to love."

Draco smiled evilly.  "Splendid."

Severus matched the younger boy's expression.  "Exactly."

Draco nodded again.  "I'm ready now."

Severus raised his wand and performed the spell.  Draco blinked a few times and frowned in confusion.

"I was just saying I expect you not to abuse your position as Head Boy.  Slytherin is a mighty house, and we do not want to give the slightest cause for people to take that away from you."

Draco scoffed.  "You have nothing to worry about, Professor."

Severus inclined his head and grinned.  "Good.  Have a good night, Mr. Malfoy."

Draco returned the gesture and left the quarters.  Severus sighed and ran a hand over his face.  He was glad Nia was a girl and not a boy, for he didn't think he could handle giving "the talk" to his _own_ child!

_Thank Merlin for Jamilah . . ._

He smirked.  He could imagine the look of horror on Nia's face, having to endure the talk from her grandmother.  He might even be present just to see the look of discomfort on the Little One.

"That's not very nice, Severus, taking pleasure from her distress."

Severus sighed and rolled his eyes.  "Could you kindly stop doing that, Headmaster?  It's a bit disconcerting."

The older man chuckled as he walked further in the room.  "My dear boy, what would be the fun in that?"

Severus raised an eyebrow.  "Point taken, Headmaster.  I swear you're a Slytherin in disguise."

Dumbledore's eyes twinkled and he winked.

_Insufferable old man!_

Severus poured yet _another_ cup of tea and handed it to Dumbledore.  He smiled his thanks and took a grateful sip.  "It's a wonder you have any tea left to serve, Severus."

"I'm not a wizard for nothing, Headmaster."

Dumbledore chuckled again and took another drink.  "No, that you aren't, Severus.  Your guidance is paramount to the destruction of Set."

Severus gave a snort.  "Indeed."

Dumbledore smirked.  "You just gave Draco his consummation talk, didn't you?"

"That was a talk his father should've given to him at some point."

Dumbledore's blue eyes darkened.  "Lucius is no more a father than I am a mother.  For all intents and purposes, you've raised the boy, Severus."

He scowled.  "Don't say that, Headmaster."

"I say it, and I mean it.  If you hadn't intervened, who knows what kind of future Draco would've had?  Everything could have been for naught."

"I thought Fate worked itself out."

"Ah, my Son.  Fate can only do so much.  It shows us paths.  It is up to us to choose wisely."

"That bit of advice sounds familiar."

Dumbledore smiled kindly.  "You did make a detour before you got to your correct path, but everything happens for a reason."

"For better or for worse."

"Exactly."

"Unfortunate that the worst times outweigh the best, isn't it?"

Dumbledore sighed and conjured a biscuit.  He bit into it thoughtfully before speaking.  "Better the father endures the worst, so his children can have the best."

"The worst is yet to come, Headmaster.  Though I didn't hear any specifics, Pettigrew and Voldemort will launch a full attack soon."

"Did you glean where?"

Severus shook his head.  "They put me under Cruciatus.  I was unable to sift through their thoughts.  My guess will be during a high profile time—a holiday of some sort.  It will be devastating."

Dumbledore squinted his eyes.  "Do you suggest we cancel Hogsmeade trips?"

He shrugged.  "That's a hard call to make, Headmaster.  Perhaps only allow fourth years and up to go.  Fourth year is the time when they start to learn beneficial defenses against Dark Arts . . . none of the trivial 'look at the boggart I found' formalities they endure the previous three years—"

"I'm sure Neville wasn't the first person who had a boggart turn into you, Severus," Dumbledore said with a wink.

"I should hope not . . . I haven't been doing my job properly if that be the case."

Dumbledore grew sober.  "How I wish you _were_ the scariest thing my students should fear . . I have a feeling boggarts will turn into more gruesome things by the time the year is over."

Severus pursed his lips.  "I think, however, it would be best to keep the students here during holidays . . . it wouldn't do well to let all the Muggle-born and half-blood students out to Voldemort for easy prey."

"You mean for holidays such as Christmas . . "

"Yes, obviously, but Halloween as well.  Either push back or bring forward the first Hogsmeade trip.  The farther away from Halloween the better."

"Duly noted.  Any other suggestions."

"Do not be so obvious with stepped up safety measures.  The quickest way to send these children into a panic is to be obvious about their safety.  The Dementors four years ago were an atrocious call—"

"Fudge is rather thick—"

"Speaking of Fudge, how is Mr. Weasley doing?  Has he recovered any more information that could be of use?"

Dumbledore took another bite of his biscuit.  "Percy saw some very peculiar pieces of documentation from Fudge's desk.  I've been able to extract them from his memory and put them in a top secret Pensieve.  I think it was information about the giants we tried to secure two years ago."

"The giant communities Death Eaters' raided?"

Dumbledore nodded.  "The very ones.  Percy's under the impression there's a plant within the Ministry."

"That's no surprise.  Lucius Malfoy was the main one."

The headmaster shook his head.  "No . . . he thinks Fudge _is_ a Death Eater."

Snape shrugged.  "Stranger things happen."

"Not only that, but it would offer many solutions—such as Fudge's insistence to have Dementors at Azkaban, then at the school when Sirius escaped—"

"Why do you say 'escape' with such skepticism, Headmaster?"

Dumbledore gave him a pointed look.  "You know as well as I, Severus, that no one leaves Azkaban unless someone from the Ministry wants him or her to leave.  What better way to get rid of Harry Potter than with the man who supposedly killed his parents?"

"Do you really think Fudge is that bright?"

"I think Fudge is smarter than he looks—"

"Not that it's saying _much,_ mind you—"

"Regardless, Severus, the Ministry of Magic controls public opinion—good or bad.  You saw the fallout with Harry after he said Voldemort was back!  No one believed him because the_ Daily Prophet _didn't believe him, and the_ Daily Prophet,_ regardless of its tendency to turn into a rag, still prints essentially the point of view of the Ministry of Magic.  Who runs the Ministry of Magic?  The Minister of Magic does.  If Voldemort has an in at the Minister post, that is a _very_ good advantage."

"And what does the Order have?  A potions master doubling as a Death Eater—my, how _we're_ up to par."

Dumbledore scoffed.  "Your sarcasm is unnecessary, Severus.  So what if they have a Minister of Magic?  We have two gods and two goddesses who can give the Dark Side some light."

"Death Eaters are like roaches—they scatter in it."

"Then we have to be exterminators, don't we?"

Severus nodded and took a sip from his tea.

"Snape!"

He squeezed is eyes closed and groaned.  Why did Fate not allow him a moment's peace this night?

He opened one eye to see Sirius walk inside the living quarter, clearly perturbed about something.

"What do you _want,_ Black?"

"Is what I'm hearing true?  You're _allowing_ Draco to have sex with a minor?"

Dumbledore stood.  "That sounds like my cue to leave . . ."

"What a coincidence . . . it was Black's cue as well."

Black shot him a look.  "I'm not leaving until I get some answers!"

"Damn."

"Have a good night, Severus.  We'll talk more in the morning."

"Anxious, Headmaster."

Dumbledore's eye twinkled as he left.  Severus sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to mentally prepare himself for the onslaught.

"What is it that I'm to answer, so you can leave me be?"

Black's eyes flashed in anger.  "How can you condone Draco to have sex with a minor?!"

"How do you know about this?"

Black rolled his eyes.  "Jamilah told me as we were having tea."

"_What_ were you doing out of the dungeons?"

Black shrank back as a chastised dog would.

_As he should . . ._

"I was bored!  It's hard for me to be confined to a small amount of space for long periods of time."

"Another perk to your stay in Azkaban, I'm sure."

"Don't you ever talk about that godforsaken place to me."

"Bygones . . . anyway, what's it to you?  I thought you were all for carnal pleasures?"

It was clear Black couldn't believe his gall.  "What you're telling him to do . . it's indecent!"

Severus looked at him incredulously.  "This coming from a man who deflowered many a minor _as_ a minor . . ."

Black sputtered.  "That is not the point!  That's Ginny we're talking about!"

"Jamilah gave the girl the same lecture I gave Draco.  It is necessary for the cause."

"I'll bet you won't be _nearly_ as understanding when it's Nia and Harry's turn."

Severus glared at him.  "Nia and Harry are two stubborn children who will deny what they feel for one another until something drastic forces them to do otherwise.  I am not worried about those two."

Black smirked.  "You'd kill Harry if he touched her, wouldn't you?"

"In a heartbeat."

Black laughed at his reaction, and Severus scowled.  "Who would have thought Snape would be an overprotective _daddy!_"

"Thank Merlin we were all spared that fate in regards to you."

"As overprotective?"

Severus snorted.  "As a _father._"

"I make a good godfather to Harry!"

"The boy is rash and moody.  He's worse than a woman before her monthly cycle."

"You know all about 'monthly cycles,' don't you, Snape?"

Severus looked to his tea and sipped from it.  "That was crass even for you, _Snuffles._  One would think Remus Lupin was merely a piece in your sick game of torture rather than a friend."

The other man sighed.  "That was really out of line for me."

"Nothing less than expected.  Dogs are not known for their tact."

"I'll let that slide this time, Snape."

"As if you could do anything else.  You don't have the wit to keep up with me."

"It takes a prick to think as a prick."

Severus grinned.  "Exactly.  This is why you cannot keep up with me . . . prick . . ."

Black growled and stood quickly.  "I don't even know why I attempt to be nice to you."

Severus shrugged.  "Perhaps it's because we are linked to each other far more intimately than we care to be, and the link is unbreakable."

Black snorted and crossed his arms.  "I don't swing that way, and even if I did, it wouldn't be toward you."

Severus rolled his eyes and took another sip.  "Don't flatter yourself, Black.  You can barely handle me as a straight man."

"Now who's talking like a nancy-boy?"

Severus merely shook his head and put down his teacup.  "Is there a _reason_ you are here?"

"Besides the fact I live here . . . yes . . . I have a question."

"I have an answer.  What luck you are in."

Black clenched his jaw in an obvious effort to control his temper.

"When will I be able to help with the Order?"

Severus frowned and answered hesitantly.  "How do you mean?"

Black glared at him and began to pace.  "This is almost worse than two years ago, when I was cooped up at home all damn day!  I feel _useless!_  All I want to do is stick it to Voldie and rip Pettigrew's heart out in return for doing the same to me and Harry!"

"It's not as simple as that, as you very well know—"

"But it actually is.  All this planning and plotting . . . it's doing nothing more than biding the bastard's time, so he can have a repeat of what happened sixteen years ago!"

Snape shook his head.  "I don't expect a Gryffindor to appreciate the time it takes to plan a coup that will provide the least amount of mishaps as possible, but I'll try to explain it to you anyway—Set is more powerful, more sadistic, more _patient_ than you are giving him credit for.  Why else do you think he hasn't made a move since the Shrieking Shack incident?  After that miscalculation, Pettigrew and Voldemort will wait until the time is right.  It is our job, as the adults of this operation, to equip these children with the tools and every advantage they can have to ensure their safety and our victory.  If Dumbledore sees fit to keep you down here out of sight—with which I wholeheartedly agree—then so be it.  You will _not_ fuck things up just because you are antsy."

They stared at each other for a long while before Black finally rolled his eyes.  "Fine, point taken, but I want to spend more time with Harry—and Nia."

Severus' eyes flashed.  "What the _hell_ does Nia have to do with you?!"

Black glared at him.  "In case you _forgot_, Malika was a Gryffindor, and we dated as well, and during the time you were playing _Death Eater,_ she and I were close.  I think she'd like to hear stories about Nia's mother that _you_ weren't around to tell.  Besides, Malika was Harry's godmother . . . I think he'd like to hear stories about her as well."

Severus growled; the wanker had a point.

"Fine."

"Good.  Jamilah said I could sit in their next training session to watch their progress."

Severus looked at him seriously.  "Be warned, Black.  If you distract my child so that she gets hurt during training, a Dementor's Kiss will seem mere child's play to what I will do to you."

"What about Harry?"

"What about him?  Not as if he needs _you_ to help him get distracted."

Black grinned.  "I'm sure Nia does that enough . . . she's as beautiful as her mother at that age."

"Black . . ."

Black rolled his eyes and gave a mock salute.  "I've been duly warned."  He sauntered to the door.  "Unpleasant dreams, _Snivellus._"

Severus sighed as the door slid closed.  "I wondered when that dear nickname would make an appearance."  He whirled and muttered a Locking Spell to the door, not wanting any more visitors that night.  He groaned.

There was a stack of quizzes on his desk that needed to be graded.

"Bugger that.  All I want to do is sleep and not wake for a _very_ long time . . "

But he knew that wouldn't be possible.  It would be a long time before his sleep would be restful again.


	4. Four

_Four_

_He knew before he opened his eyes it was entirely too early to be awake, but it was clear his body didn't care.  Sleep had been a precious commodity for him of late, and it seemed as if it would elude him this night as well.  He let out an internal sigh and succumbed to his body's wishes, letting his feline eyes adjust to the minimal light coming into the room.  The sheer curtains billowed from the warm breeze that wafted into the room.  The columns reflected the moonlight, and the shadows of fire-lit torches danced across them.  The room was an open space, save for the roof and the columns supporting it, and it was large.  He liked the openness; he could never be confined for too long.  As it was, he wanted to take a walk now that he was awake, but he hesitated.  He lay there a few moments, his body weary but knowing the bed was a cruel thing, taunting his tired body though it could not get the proper rest.  He began to rise, but a heavy weight kept him down._

_He smiled._

_She was a light snorer, but it was an endearing sound.  He gazed down at her sleeping form and sent a word of thanks to Ra.  She'd been busy for weeks on end, never having enough time to give her body the break it so desperately needed._

_"Sleep, my goddess, sleep . . "_

_He brushed her hair from her face gently, and she let out a long sigh before her breathing became regular again.  She'd been running herself ragged, looking for the scattered pieces of her brother up and down the Nile._

_Set was a sick bastard._

First, the jealous god traps Osiris in a coffin; now he cuts Osiris's body up and scatters it everywhere.  If the bastard thinks this will put him in Isis' good graces, he _may_ want to think again . . .

_Not that it would make a difference; Isis would probably kill her "brother" on sight._

_He rolled his eyes.  Not a tear would be shed from the downfall of Set; he only hoped Osiris reserved a particularly hot place in the underworld for him._

_Apedemak eased his arm from behind her head, glad the movement didn't wake her.  He waited a few moments before trying to move the rest of his body._

_"No . . ."_

_His breathing grew shallow at her tired cry, and she snuggled closer to him.  He lay still until she settled again and tried once more.  This time he succeeded, and she now rested fully on the bed.  Apedemak kneeled on the side of the bed to gaze at her.  Isis' face still had worry lines, but for the most part it was calm.  He trailed a finger down one of her cheeks and pulled a stay strand of hair away from it._

_"I love you . . ."_

_Her lips pulled into a faint smile, and his own echoed her movement.  He kissed his fingers and placed them to her lips before leaving the room.  _

_The stars seemed especially bright as he gazed upon them, dotting the sky in the millions.  He sighed and picked out constellations, trying to see if Ra left him any messages._

_"I looked.  There's no news."_

_He turned towards the voice.  "Nephthys."_

_Her fiery hair was pulled back with a leather tie, and her alabaster skin seemed soft in the moonlight.  Her gown billowed in the breeze, and she held her wrap over it._

_She gave him a sad smile and walked towards him.  He opened his arms and hugged her, trying to offer what little comfort he could give.  If Isis was mourning, Nephthys was downright wretched.  Few times had she left her vulture form, trying to see if its eyes would prove more useful than her human sight—even if it was aided by magic.  Her vulture's cry echoed through the cataracts in a heartbreaking moan.  Not a creature on earth could deny the goddess's pain._

_"How are you, Nephthys?"_

_"I miss him, Apedemak.  I miss him so much!"_

_"Shh," he cooed.  "We will find him and bring him back to you, Nettie.  Isis has been working nonstop to help."_

_She nodded against his chest and sniffled.  "I know, Apedemak.  She loves him as much as I do, if differently."_

_He sighed.  "And as much as I think of him as a crock and a bull, I wish for his safe return, as well."_

_Nephthys giggled.  "He is a croc and a bull!"_

_He smiled.  "Is that laughter I hear, Nettie?  I have missed it so much it sounds foreign!"_

_She sobered and snuggled closer.  "I know it has.  There hasn't been much to laugh about.  Only thing that's been fit to do is cry.  The people are lost without their leader, Apedemak.  And I am lost without the man I love."_

_He cradled her face in his hands and gazed into her eyes.  "We will find him, Nettie, all of him.  Set will rue the day he tore himself from his mother's womb."_

_Nephthys snorted.  "Not as much as I do.  I can't believe I fell for his lies, his schemes!  He said he loved me, Apedemak.  I was just a pawn in his quest for my sister!"_

_Apedemak growled, and a small smile came to her face.  "He can't have her."_

_She smirked.  "I've always known cats to be a bit possessive, but you really take it a step too far . . you do know your canines have grown and you have whiskers on your face, don't you?"_

_Apedemak blushed and reverted back to his human form.  "Be glad I didn't grow tusks instead!"_

_"Believe me, I am!"_

_He smiled again and ran a hand over her cheek.  "I know this may seem a bit . . insensitive, but I need your advice."_

_Her brows furrowed.  "On what?"_

_He sighed heavily.  "It's Isis—I'm afraid she's going to do something rash, and I won't be able to stop her."_

_Nephthys lifted her eyes to the heavens.  "Your concerns echo mine, I'm afraid."_

_He looked off into the distance.  "Any ideas, then?"_

_She shook her head.  "I'm afraid the only thing that will make her happy again is to have Osiris back.  Aside from that, she's going to work herself into exhaustion."_

_He frowned at her.  "Are you not the least bit jealous she shows such devotion to him?"_

_She smiled sadly.  "Well . . . he is her husband . . ."_

_"But you love him!"_

_"As you love her.  I should be asking you the same."_

_He dropped his arms from around her and turned away.  "I can't help the feeling, Nettie, and I feel terrible for it.  I wish she would look at me as she does him."_

_He heard her chuckle but didn't turn to face her.  "I wouldn't be so quick to say that, Apedemak."_

_"Right."_

_She laughed again.  "She loves you, very much.  She's just scared."_

_Apedemak snorted.  "Funny . . . Osiris told me a similar thing."_

_"And you didn't believe him, did you?"  He didn't answer.  "You should.  He knows her better than she knows herself.  That's part of the reason she's so lost now."_

_"But I want to be that person for her!  I can help her find her way!"_

_Nephthys sighed and walked behind him, her hand rubbing his back in comfort.  "It's not that simple, Apedemak.  We all shared a womb together, but she and Osiris had a bond from the beginning.  The only reason we aren't quadruplets is because Osiris and Set were born years before Isis and I.  Osiris used to say he wanted the world to be perfect for our births . . "_

_Apedemak smiled at that.  "Was it?"_

_Nephthys smiled as well.  "As perfect as he could make it with Set trying to destroy him at each turn.  He was awful even then, only I was too blind to see it . . . so consumed with jealousy that Isis got all the attention."_

_"And now?"_

_She removed her arm and hugged herself.  "Now I see it wasn't the case.  It was all Set . . . feeding me lies and turning my heart against them.  Isis tried numerous times to get me in on their games, but I always saw it as pity.  I missed the looks of sadness on her face when I turned her down, but Set would say it was all an act.  She was secretly glad I said no, for she wanted Osiris all to herself.  Little did I know it was actually Set wanting Isis for himself.  I was such a weakling!"_

_Apedemak shook his head and placed a hand on her shoulder.  "Don't say that, Nephthys.  Set can be pretty persuasive when he wants to be."_

_"Isis hasn't fallen for his trickery, not like I did."_

_"But Osiris did," he teased._

_Nephthys rolled her eyes and poked him in the gut with her elbow.  "Don't speak of him as if he were a nitwit.  You imply that I am . . "_

_"You said it . . ."_

_She poked him in the gut again but chuckled anyway.  "She'd always been perceptive."_

_"Just as you are, Nephthys, but you were alone.  Loneliness can cause even the most intelligent to make rash decisions when someone offers company."_

_Nephthys nodded in resignation.  "I understand."  She offered him a smile and hugged his arm.  "I'm glad you are here for her, Apedemak.  You'll prevent her from making the same mistake I did."_

_Apedemak shook his head.  "I don't know about that, Nettie.  I feel her slipping away from me.  The longer it takes to find Osiris, the more likely she is to do something stupid."_

_"Like what?"_

_Green eyes locked with brown.  "Like give herself to Set in order to recover Osiris' missing pieces."_

_"If that's what it takes, then that's what I'll do!"_

_Both Nephthys and Apedemak jumped at the fierce declaration.  Apedemak turned and felt short of breath.  Unlike her sister's, Isis' hair flew wildly around her in ebony waves.  Her golden eyes were fierce and full of passion, despite the fact she just awoke from sleep.  Her nightgown was sheer and caressed her skin as it blew in the wind.  Unlike Nephthys, she had no wrap, merely crossed her arms before her._

_"Isis—"_

_She tilted her head to the side, her expression leaving no room for argument.  "Not another word, Apedemak.  I know how you feel about the subject, but you also know I'd do anything for my brother . . . and my sister."_

_Nephthys and Apedemak glanced at each other before Nephthys walked to the other woman.  "Isis."_

_"You miss him as much as I do, Nettie.  I hear your cries over the desert.  You rarely rest during the day in your search.  I made a vow to my brother and to myself.  I will not let Set win."_

_Nephthys put her palm against Isis' cheek, and she leaned into it.  "I don't want him to win, either, Isis.  But not at the expense of you."_

_Isis gave an ironic smile.  "You have no idea why Set went after Osiris, do you?"_

_The other two frowned.  "He wants you; he always has."_

_Isis nodded.  "That much is true.  But Set knew of the love Osiris felt for you and you for him even while you were married.  When you left, it all but sealed his loathing of Osiris.  He thought he had beat Osiris by taking you away from him, that you would be a bargaining chip, but Set realized it was futile, especially when Apedemak came to save you."_

_Nephthys looked to him for confirmation, and he nodded.  "I thought you came of your own free will . . "_

_Apedemak gave a half smile.  "No, Nettie, though it was to appear that way.  Not that I had to do much acting, for I was taken by you.  There left little wonder why Osiris would save you from Set.  You are a beautiful, pure goddess, who didn't need the likes of him tainting you."_

_"And Osiris knew this, as well.  He loves you, Sister."_

_Nephthys frowned.  "And yet you stayed married to him, Isis."_

_She shrugged.  "We were married for a purpose, Nephthys.  I was essentially put under his charge.  He protected me, though I didn't know from what.  Now I do.  And now that's he's not here, I have to be a big girl and do this own my own—"_

_"You are not alone, Isis.  You have Thoth and Sekhmet and Nephthys . . . and me.  You have me, darling."_

_The moonlight appeared glassy in her eyes as she looked to him.  Nephthys rubbed her palm along Isis' cheek and ended their eye-lock.  Isis smiled and grasped her sister's hand, kissing the back of it.  "I love you all . . so much," she said, gazing at Apedemak as she finished.  He felt his heart expand, and he offered her a smile._

_He saw Nephthys look between the two of them, and she grinned.  "I'll leave you two alone.  I have to have some energy to fly down the Nile, don't I?"_

_Isis gave her a sad smile, and they kissed each other's cheeks.  "Goodnight."_

_"Goodnight, Nephthys," Apedemak said softly, all the while gazing at Isis.  Isis watched Nephthys leave until she couldn't see her anymore._

_He smirked.  "Are you going to look at me, love?"_

_She turned her head slowly, her golden eyes locking with his green ones._

_"You can't stop me, Apedemak."_

_He gave a wistful smile.  "I know I can't.  Why do you think I'm so afraid for you . . . for me . . . because something awful will happen to you . . ."_

_She looked away briefly before going back to him.  "He's my brother, Apedemak—"_

_"And you're the woman I love!  I don't want what happened to him to happen to you!  What of Nephthys?  She's already lost someone dear to her.  She'll shatter if it happens to you as well.  You're the big sister!"_

_"By two minutes, Apedemak," she said as she rolled her eyes._

_He grinned.  "Doesn't make you the oldest any less, love.  I know you're doing this as much for her as for yourself, but both of you are making yourselves weak.  We may be gods and goddesses, but we don't live forever either."_

_She snorted and rubbed her arms.  "Clearly."_

_Isis looked to the ground, apparently fascinated by something just to the left of her.  He walked up to her and grasped her arms.  She still didn't look at him, even as he placed a kiss to her temple._

_"I just want you to be safe, Isis," he whispered against her skin.  "Promise me you'll stay safe."_

_She shook her head, still not looking at him.  "That's not a promise I can make in good conscience, Apedemak.  It's not fair for me to do so, either."_

_He lifted his right hand and grasped her chin, forcing her to look at him.  "Isis—"_

_"Apedemak, I know you're worried about my safety and—"_

_"This isn't just about your safety!  It's about you giving yourself up to that monster and . . ."_

_"And what?"_

_He rested his forehead against hers.  "Me never seeing you again, about you hating yourself because he would force you to be someone you aren't."_

_She smirked.  "What makes you think you'd never see me again?  Just because I give myself up to him doesn't mean I have to stay with him."_

_He tilted his head.  "How do you mean?"_

_She looked at him incredulously.  "Set wouldn't want me if I were a weakling.  He wants me for my powers . . and he'll meet them all right."_

_He gave her a look of confusion; then he grinned.  "You naughty goddess . . "_

_She cradled his face in her hands.  "I promise you this—I won't go to him unless it is a last resort—"_

_He sighed and looked to the sky.  "I don't want you to go to him regardless!"_

_"It's not that simple, Apedemak.  The people need him here; Nephthys needs him here.  I need him here."_

_"But I need you here . . "_

_She stood on tiptoe and kissed his cheek.  "I'll never leave you, Apedemak."_

_"But—"_

_She hugged him, and he pulled her flush against him, resting his chin on the top of her head.  "Believe me when I say this, Apedemak.  I'll never leave you.  You have me always."_

_He kissed the top of her head, then laid his cheek there.  "Good, because I'm never letting you go . . ."_

"I got you, okay?  I won't let you go; I promise."

"I want to get down _now!_"

He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose.  "You have to relax, love.  It's only making you more nervous—"

"Unlike you, _I_ don't _like_ being ten feet off the ground!"

"I won't let you get hurt."

"Please . . ."

"Draco will tease you if you don't go through with this."

"Like I give a shit what he thinks!"

He had to smother a laugh; hearing her curse was highly amusing yet scary at the same time.  "Nia—"

"Harry, I'm not playin'!  I'm scared to death!  Please let me get down!"

He knew she wasn't kidding; her body had been trembling violently since she sat on the broomstick, only getting worse each time they got higher.

He squeezed her middle.  "Fine, love.  I'll get you down."

She exhaled a long breath.  "Good.  Thanks."

He eased them down gently, and he couldn't suppress a smile at her exclamation of, "Thank you, _God!"_ as he touched down to the ground.  She got off the broom and collapsed on the grass with her arms and legs askew.

Harry rolled his eyes.  "You have a penchant for the dramatic, love.  Do try to spend less time with Malfoy, hmm?"

"Bugger off!"

He grinned as he sat beside her, his legs pointing toward her head.  "I said it before, and I'll say it again, love: you're cute when you speak like a Briton."

She smirked at him and reclined on her elbows.  "Only then?"

She batted her eyes exaggeratedly, and he bent his face towards hers.  "No, love, it's a perpetual malady with you."

He brushed her nose with his forefinger and drew back, her body following his movements.  She sat opposite of him, resting her head on her drawn-up knees.  "And _I'll_ say it again—cute is for puppies."

He gave her a mock scowl.  "I walked right into that, didn't I?"

She chuckled.  "Yup."

"Why do you bait me so?"

She squinted at him and shrugged.  "Dunno.  Guess it's 'cause you so _easy_ . . . makes you a prime target."

His mind drifted back to the dream he had the night before.  It had been a while since he dreamed of his life as Apedemak, and it worried him.

"About that . . . promise me you'll keep yourself safe."

She snorted.  "Can't very well do that while you tryin' to get me hundreds of feet in the air!"

He reached out and tucked a curl behind her ear.  "I mean it, Nia.  Don't do anything rash."

She smirked.  "I believe you're confusing me with your redheaded crush."

"She's not my crush!"  Nia shot him a look.  "Anymore . . ."

She brushed his comment away.  "Don't worry.  I'm not a Gryffindor; I think before I leap."

Harry closed his eyes and shook his head.  "Gryffindors aren't like that."

She shrugged.  "If you say so . . ."

He nodded at her and laughed.  "I _do_ say so!  And I'd appreciate it if you'd refrain from slandering my house with that pretty mouth of yours."

Said pretty mouth curved into a grin.  "What are you doin' lookin' at my mouth, Harry Potter?"

He blushed and looked down, all of a sudden interested in a blade of grass.  He heard her sigh.

"What are you gonna do about trainin' when you leave?"

He shook his head, grateful for the change in topic.  "Dunno.  You think we'll still need it?"

"Possibly . . . at the rate we're goin', definitely.  I don't understand why Draco and Ginny are so ahead of us . . . ain't like they started before we did . . ."

Harry often wondered that as well.  In the beginning, it was he who was so far ahead of the others, but since they incorporated magic in training, Draco and Ginny were above and beyond them.

"Reckon that's why Jamilah separated us?" he asked.

Nia snorted.  "I think she was doin' us a favor!  I dunno about you, but I don't wanna see them suckin' face the entire trainin' session!"

He chuckled.  "Point taken.  Speaking of training, we should go inside now; Jamilah only gave us an hour for the flight lesson."

She sucked her teeth.  "Much good it did me; I 'bout peed in my pants, and we barely got off the ground!"

He scowled.  "Too much information, Nia!"

"Nobody told you to _listen!_" she said and stuck out her tongue at him.  He returned the gesture as he stood, holding his hands out for her to take.  As she got to her feet, she stumbled, and Harry placed his hands at her waist to steady her.

"Thanks," she murmured.

He smirked at her.  "No wonder you don't like the sky!  You can barely function on the ground!"

She huffed and shoved him.  "You are so _corny!_"

He snickered as he watched her walk towards the castle.  He liked getting her riled up; it was something about how her golden eyes turn molten and her cheeks got a red tint to them.  It made him realize a very important fact.

She would be dangerous when she got older.

_Hell . . . she's dangerous now!_

He sighed and began to walk slowly towards Hogwarts.  After the training, there was going to be a birthday party for Hermione, which, luckily, was on a Friday night.  He just hoped he had enough energy to be excited for it.  He had a feeling Jamilah was going to run them ragged today.

He chuckled.  She was actually the first DADA professor he had who lasted more than a year, but part of him wondered if it was because of her relationship with Nia.  That's not to say she wasn't a competent professor; everyone enjoyed the Defense classes, _especially_ after having that horrible Umbitch as a professor his fifth year.  From the mirror trick at the beginning of the year to the Revealing Spell used to detect and reveal those who were invisible, their class learned many invaluable defenses.

However, some of his housemates asked him about his extra lessons—even if he was going to start Dumbledore's Army again.  Harry hummed and hawed his answers, not knowing how to reply.  Jamilah never explicitly told them to keep what they did a secret; it had been assumed.  Harry felt guilty when he couldn't tell Ron and Hermione what he was doing when he first started the training; they had always helped him in his fight against Voldemort.  He wasn't ignorant of the suspicious and disappointed looks they sent his way during the last year.  It felt almost wrong not to tell them.  Harry had bit his tongue numerous times, especially after Ginny told him who they _really_ were, as reincarnated gods, but then he thought it was probably even more important to keep the news from his best friends.  Harry remembered when he was a second year and he heard the basilisk's voice through the pipes in the school.  He didn't appreciate Ron and Hermione looking at him as though he'd lost his mind, and he hadn't fancied seeing that look on their faces again.

_If they told me they were gods and goddesses, I would think them barking, too!_

Harry shook his head as he entered the castle.  His friends were surprisingly understanding when they found out that summer—almost as if they were expecting it.  Regardless, Harry gave the biggest sigh of relief when Dumbledore revealed all to the Order members after they'd raided the Dark Conception Ritual.  He was under the impression everyone knew about their status, but when Mrs. Weasley gasped, "Dear heavens!" at the news and the expressions on other members' faces echoed her spoken exclamation, Harry knew it was not the case.  He wondered why Dumbledore didn't tell them from the beginning, but he figured better late than never.

George, on the other hand, merely exclaimed "Wicked!" and slapped Harry on the back in congratulations.

Harry had muttered a half-hearted, "Thank you," as he glanced to Angelina.  She was looking to her father for an explanation, yet he seemed to be looking at Dumbledore for the same.  The older man made a peculiar move with his head that implied everything would be answered later.

Speaking of which, Harry thought he was well overdue for some answers himself.

Knowing one was a reincarnate god did not explain _why_ one was a reincarnate god.  But what it _did_ do was explain the sudden and seemingly _random_ attraction he felt toward Nia when they met that fateful day two years ago.

That was the first time he dreamed of his life as Apedemak, right before he met Nia for the first time.

Her Isis to his Apedemak.

Harry denied the attraction and replaced it with an automatic dislike for her, merely because of her house and her friendship with his arch-nemesis-turned-ally.  But the dislike seemed unnatural, rather like his civility toward Malfoy.

Harry snorted as he turned a corner.  Draco Malfoy was a matter better left untouched.

_Much like Nia Roberts should be, eh, mate?_

"Bugger off," he muttered to the nagging voice in his head.  The recent dream he had did not help matters, making his feelings for her increasingly more complicated.  The Isis of his dream was, he knew, how Nia would look when she got older, and she looked every bit the goddess she was.  Jamilah rubbed salt in the wound when she told him he was to start their flying lessons before the standard training.  He was to help Nia get acquainted with the broomstick.  Her body trembled from the moment she saw the broom until the moment she got off it, and her constant need to adjust her position on the broom caused _very_ inappropriate reactions with him.  He couldn't help but think there was _another_ broomstick with which he wanted her to get "acquainted."

He shook his head roughly.

_Damn!  I'm a randy bastard!_

And he knew he wasn't the only bloke who felt that way.

He cursed himself at the jealousy he felt when he saw other boys look at Nia.  Harry could practically see the lust oozing out of them.  It was all he could do not to pummel them into the ground for staring at her so lecherously.  Luckily Draco was there to do it for him, if not literally then figuratively.  Those ice-cold eyes froze every potential suitor before he could even approach her.  He remembered what his Dream Isis said about Osiris—he was her protector.  Who knew she needed protection from horny teenage boys as well as a crazed god?  She was just a kid, not some bloody veela.

_She's not just a kid, Potter, and you know it._

There was the entire problem.  She was the goddess who stole his heart all those millennia ago, and she was too young for him to do anything about it.  And it wasn't as if he had the right to ward off any of her potential suitors.  He and Nia weren't dating, and she was fourteen years old—she could date whomever she wanted.

_Over my dead body._

"Boy!  Quit dawdlin' and get here _now!_  It ain't take _Nia_ eighty thousand years to get here from the Quidditch pitch!  I tell you, these kids today think the world revolves around them . ."

Harry grinned.  "Yes, Professor Roberts."

He walked in and saw Nia stretching and talking with Sirius as she did so—

_Talking with Sirius?_

"What are you doing here?" he asked, half ecstatic and half annoyed.

Sirius grinned at Nia before looking at him.  "Hi there, Harry!  Jamilah said I could sit in one of your training sessions.  It's right stuffy down in the dungeons."

"There's nothing wrong with the dungeons," Nia muttered as she bent over to the side.

"So says the Slytherin," Sirius muttered out the side of his mouth.

Harry was not amused.  "What if someone sees you?  You're supposed to be dead, remember?  That means you remain out of sight!"

Sirius snorted.  "Pettigrew is supposed to be dead, too; that didn't stop him from trying to sprog Ginny Weasley up."

"All right, all right, that's enough!  You two, get ready for the link sessions."

He and Nia groaned but did as the professor said.  They stood in the center of the room, with their backs pressed against each other.  In this drill, they were to see what the other did, though they were facing opposite directions.  The stronger the link, the clearer the images.  He linked his fingers with hers and gave them a squeeze.

"Ready?" he asked.

"Hopefully . . ."

Jamilah stood a few meters in front of him.  "Okay, since Sirius is here today, he's gonna help me with this drill.  We'll flash cards before you, and the other is to say what the image is.  For each one you get right, take a step forward.  The goal is to be directly in front of whoever is flashing the images.  Make sense?"

"Yes."

"Good.  I'll go first.  Sirius, you go next, regardless if Nia gets the image right or not."

"Yes, Jamilah."

Harry took a deep breath as Jamilah showed the first image.

"Fire truck," Nia muttered.

"Very good, Nia.  Your turn, Sirius."

Harry took a step forward and waited.

"A baby's rattle."

"Good, Harry!" Sirius exclaimed.

Another step.  Nia's answer wasn't as quick.  "Looks like a T.V. from here . ."

"Yes, it's a T.V.  You gotta be quicker than that, Nia.  The Death Eaters ain't gonna give you time to figure it out."

"Yes, Grandma."

They continued the exercise for another five minutes, but Nia kept having trouble on her side.

Soon Jamilah had enough.  "Nia!"

"Ma'am?"

"What is wrong with you?  Why can't you focus?"

"Uhh . . . ."

Harry turned and looked at Sirius over Nia's shoulder.  The older man shrugged.

"Out with it, girl!  You were doing much better the session before!  What's gotten into you today?"

"Um, I think I'm just woozy from the flyin' lesson earlier . . . yeah . . . that's it."

She was lying, and Harry knew it, though he didn't know why.

Jamilah groaned.  "I told you before; you gonna have to deal with that.  It's a quick way to travel, and it will come in handy at some point."

"I know, Grandma, but you can't expect me to get over my fear in a day, either."

"Your mama could," Jamilah muttered.

"I ain't my mama, am I?"

Nia's tone even caught Harry by surprise, and he turned widened eyes to Jamilah.  The professor's face was stone as she stared at her granddaughter.

"Who do you think you are, Miss Thang, usin' that tone with me?"

Nia looked to the side and hugged herself.

Harry walked behind her and put his hands on her shoulders.  "You saw something, didn't you, Nia?"

"Harry—"

"What did you see?"

She began to tremble again, much as she did when they were on the pitch earlier.  He wrapped his arms around her to calm her.

"I'm right here, love.  Tell me what you saw."

She swallowed thickly.  "I saw him."

Harry glanced at Sirius.  He was looking at Nia with a mixture of awe and disbelief.

"Who?"

"Harry, I don't think it's a good idea . . " Sirius said slowly, his eyes never leaving Nia.

"Why not?  She saw something that obviously upset her.  I want to make her feel better," he said more firmly than he intended.

"Harry . . ." he warned again.

"Who is 'him'?  Who did you see, love?  You can tell me . . " Harry whispered in her ear.

She shook her head and sniffled.  "I don't wanna tell you, Harry."

He frowned and looked to Sirius.  "Why not?"

She took a deep breath.  "It has to do with your parents . . ."

There was no need for her to finish the sentence.  He knew exactly what she meant.

"You saw it, didn't you?  You saw Voldemort kill my parents?"

She sniffled and nodded her head.  "It was horrible."

"But that's impossible!  Harry was only a baby when it happened!" Sirius exclaimed.

Harry looked to Jamilah for confirmation, but she shook her head.  "It's entirely possible, Sirius.  If Harry was awake during the ordeal, he probably did see the entire thing.  He just doesn't have a conscious memory of it because he was so young, but Nia . . . she managed to tap into that part of him.  Fascinating."

Harry dropped his arms from her and backed away.  His entire body was shaking at Jamilah's announcement.  Actual memories of his parents . . . even if it was of the last moments of their lives.

"I want to know what happened."

Nia whirled to face him.  "_What?_"

He clenched his jaw.  "I want to know.  I have a _right_ to know . . ."

She blinked rapidly and shook her head.  "But, Harry—"

"I don't care.  Tell me, Nia.  Please."

She looked to Jamilah for permission, and the older woman shrugged.  "The boy has a right to know."

Nia sighed and scowled.  "Don't make me, Harry!  I don't wanna!"

"Like Professor Roberts said—I have a right to know."

"Don't pressure the girl, Harry.  Seeing something like that must've been traumatic."

"Yes, and if I saw my parents die, then I should've been able to see thestrals long before my fifth year!"

"You didn't remember it, Harry, and you were too young to know what death was.  They only become visible when there's a clear understanding of the concept of death," Jamilah explained.

Nia appeared confused.  "Thestrals?"

"They pull the carriages when we go to Hogsmeade."

"OH!  _That's_ what those things are called?"

Harry frowned.  "You mean you see them?  Why didn't you say anything?"

She gave him an incredulous look.  "When you hear people around you sayin', 'Wicked!  Horseless carriages!' the urge to speak lessens somehow."

His frown melted into concern.  "Who did you see die?"

She glanced at Jamilah, then looked to the ground.  "My mother."

Sirius took in a sharp breath as Jamilah blew out hers.  "I would rather save this conversation for a later time.  We have training to get to," she said, her tone dead.

It was pretty much determined, after thirty minutes, an effective training session wasn't going to happen.  His mind was too focused on what it was Nia saw, and she seemed wrapped in her own thoughts.

"Y'all can go.  Besides, you have a birthday party to get to, anyway," Jamilah said in defeat.

Nia gathered her things and rushed out of the room, clearly avoiding him.  Harry became irrationally angry.  What was wrong wanting to know about his parents' demise?  He was desperate for any amount of information—good or bad.

It was times like these he longed for the Mirror of Erised.

"Harry?"

"_What?_" he snarled, then closed his eyes and hung his head.  "Sorry, Sirius.  I didn't mean to lash out like that."

The older man offered him a small smile.  "I would, too, if someone had a key to my past and didn't give it to me, but you have to be patient about these things, Harry."

He snorted.  "You?  Talking about patience?"

Sirius chuckled.  "Sounds foreign to my ears, as well, kid, but I mean it.  You didn't see the look on her face as she saw those images.  If horror had an expression, her face would've been it.  It's a wonder she reached that deeply into your mind, Harry.  I'll bet what you saw as a baby was truly terrible, even if you didn't know what you were seeing."

Harry sighed.  "I didn't even feel her in my head.  When Snape does it, I'm aware of the extra presence.  Why was it like that with her?"

"Because of the link, Harry.  What Snape does is an intrusion.  He pries through thoughts.  The link allows for every part of the mind to be accessed without trouble.  It leaves you vulnerable."

Harry looked at Jamilah.  "Why was I not able to do the same with her?"

"_You_ were actually focused on the session.  Nia has a tendency to let her attention wander; unfortunately, it went to your unpleasant memories."

"Maybe she _was_ really shaken after the flying lesson."

She nodded.  "That's entirely possible.  Perhaps I'm rushin' y'all.  We can go back to strength trainin'."

Harry shook his head.  "By all means, Professor Roberts, you gave us a goal, and we have every intention of reaching it."

Jamilah grinned at him.  "Spoken like a Gryffindor . . . all right, you, go have some fun.  Tell Miss Granger I said happy birthday."

He gave her a half smile.  "I will.  'Night, Professor Roberts, Sirius."

Sirius clapped Harry's shoulder and squeezed.  "Night, Harry.  Remember what I said, okay?"

He nodded.  "Yeah, I'll remember."

Sirius squeezed his shoulder again, and Harry left, his steps heavy.  He definitely wasn't in the mood to go to a party, yet Hermione was his best friend.  He was glad he gave his gift to Ginny, just in case the training session went over.

The trek to the Tower seemed impossibly long, and he muttered the password to the Fat Lady.

"Cheer up, dearie!  There's a party today!" she said kindly.  He gave her a half-smile and climbed through the portrait hole.

It was in full swing, and even Hermione seemed to be having the appropriate amount of fun.

"Hiya, Harry!" Ron called and waved.

Harry's wave was less than enthusiastic as he walked further in the common room.  He searched for Ginny and spotted her near the refreshments table.  As he walked toward her, he passed Hermione.

"Hello, Harry."  She grinned.

He returned the smile and gave her a kiss on the cheek.  "How are you, birthday girl?"

"Old!" she laughed.

He and Ron rolled their eyes.  "You're only seventeen, 'Mione!"

She tapped her hip against her boyfriend.  "But I'm a legal adult!"

"Yes, you are, love, which means we can do things, legally, that we couldn't do before . . ." Ron said and began to place small kisses on her neck.

Harry took that as his cue to leave.

"Get a room, you two!" Seamus yelled over the music.

Harry knew without looking that Ron gave Seamus a rude gesture in return.  Chuckling, he went to Ginny, who was downing a mug of butterbeer.

"Nice party," he said.

Ginny snorted and looked over her shoulder.  "They're at it again."

Her tone sounded bored, and he grinned.  "Maybe they'll take Seamus' advice."

She glanced at him and rolled her eyes.  "One can only hope . . ."

Harry raised his eyebrows.  "You sound how I feel . . . want to talk about it?"

She regarded him for a moment, then nodded.  "Don't know where we could go, however; the common room's crowded."

"The Room?"

She sighed.  "Yeah, best we wait until the party begins to wind down.  I promised Ron I'd help with clean-up."

He frowned.  "A simple cleaning spell should do the trick!"

"'Should' is the key word, Harry."

"Duly noted.  We'll wait it out . . ."

Two hours later, he and Ginny regretted that decision.  Both were sprawled on the couch, exhausted, though the party was still going.

"Maybe we should make a break for it now," Ginny whispered.

"Agreed."

They walked out of the party without incident, and both breathed a sigh of relief as they walked down the corridor.  It was a quiet walk, and he was grateful for it.  He was even more grateful for the door of the Room of Requirement appearing.

"I was afraid we'd have to go back," Ginny said.

"Me, too.  I would've been put out."

She snickered.  "Seems like you already are."  She opened the door and presented the Room to him.  "Step into my office, Mr. Potter."

"Cute, Ginny," he muttered, but grinned as he walked inside.  There was a fireplace and two easy chairs before it, with a small table in between the seats with cookies and milk.  It was nice and cozy setting, and it calmed him immensely.

"How quaint."

He snorted.  "You sound more and more like Malfoy everyday."

She grinned.  "Well, that's just the nicest thing you've ever said to me!"

Harry ruffled her hair before pulling her into a hug.  She returned it, and he felt good.  It was so different from the last time he held her this intimately, when he had his crush.  A lot of things were crushed during that point—the most considerable was his ego.  Malfoy and Nia had his number, and they played it for weeks.

He chuckled.  "You're not planning on shoving me against a wall this time, are you?"

She pulled back and smirked.  "Such naughty thoughts, Potter.  Surprised the room hasn't changed accordingly."

He rolled his eyes and kissed her forehead.  "What has the Ice Prince done this time?"

The abrupt change in topic seemed to catch her off guard, if only momentarily.  She sighed and sat in one of the chairs.  She waited until he sat in the other one.

"It's less of what he did than what _I_ did . . . has Jamilah been doing those link exercises with you?"

"Yes.  We did one today during our session."

She nodded and continued.  "Well, during the link, I began to see memories . . . they were very disturbing.  I didn't know just how much I could hate someone until I saw these memories.  They broke my heart . . ."

"Of what?"

She exhaled a shaky breath.  "I saw him being subjected to the Cruciatus Curse for the first time."

Harry shuddered.  "That's no fun.  Voldemort cast it on me right after he rose again.  That's a pain like no other."

"Yes, Harry, but you were fourteen when it happened . . . Draco was three."

He felt as if he'd been slapped.  "_Three years old?_  What kind of a person would _do_ that to a child that young?  It's not like Malfoy's of mixed heritage."

"Well, apparently, Draco's mother allowed him to play with Muggles during one of their excursions to Muggle London, and Lucius found out about it.  As her punishment, she was forced to watch Lucius cast the Cruciatus Curse on Draco.  Lucius said he would've made her do it, had she had the strength and power to do so.  What the bastard meant was if she were like her sister Bellatrix and was evil enough, she could've cast it."

Harry felt like he wanted to throw up.  "What kind of sick, twisted bastard would do that to his son?"

She snorted.  "Lucius Malfoy.  I swear to Merlin, I was ready to hex something.  As it was, I nearly magicked Jamilah's head off and destroyed two dummies in my ire.  I'd never been so angry in my life!"

"What did Malfoy do?"

"His jaw was tightly set after that; he didn't say a word."

Harry shook his head sadly.  "He probably didn't want you to know that."

She shrugged helplessly.  "I know that, Harry!  It wasn't like I was _looking_ for it; I just found it.  First I was seeing the cards Jamilah was flashing before him; then all of a sudden, I was in that horrible memory.  His cries, Harry, they were so heart wrenching!  I had half a mind to tear Lucius' bloody heart out with my bare hands, but then I'd be in Azkaban instead of helping you."

"Was your mind wandering?"

She looked to the ceiling and nodded.  "I was thinking about the party, about helping Ron . . . I wasn't focused on the task."

"Yeah, Nia wasn't paying attention, either.  Then all of a sudden she froze and apparently had a look of horror on her face.  After much prodding on my part, she told me who she saw . . ."

He didn't say anything for a while, and Ginny waved her hands as if coaxing the last bit of information from him.

"Well?"

Harry rubbed his temples, alleviating tension in his head.  "She saw my parents . . and Voldemort."

She sucked in a sharp breath.  "She saw your memory of your parents' death?  _Merlin,_ Harry!"

He ran a shaky hand through his hair.  "Yeah . . . she wouldn't tell me what happened, but then again, why would she need to?  They're dead; that's the end result in all of this."

"Don't be that way, Harry," she chastised gently.

He gave a sardonic chuckle.  "It's the truth, isn't it?  Perhaps it's better she didn't tell me, though you'd think she would, since she calls me her friend . . ."

"That's not fair!  I didn't want to tell Draco, but he forced me to tell him . . . it was clear he didn't remember anything about it until I told him.  I _hated_ seeing him like that, as if someone told him Christmas was cancelled; then he closed himself off to me.  I think she knew how you'd react.  Or worse, you'd get violent all of a sudden—"

"You think me violent?"

She shrugged.  "You can have very irrational reactions to bad news.  You blew up at Ron and Hermione so many times during my fourth year . . it's hard to be the brunt of the anger from someone you care for greatly."

He sat back in the chair and breathed deeply.  "Has Malfoy been able to return the favor, so to speak?"

She shook her head.  "Not that I know of, or if he has, he's been very tight-lipped about it."

"I don't understand," Harry said after a while.  "Why can you two get into our memories?  We're both in the link, right?"

"Yeah, we are . . . I don't know, Harry; I find it odd as well."

He sighed and rubbed his hands over his face.  "Well, I guess something good has come out of this."

"Oh?  What's that?"

Harry shrugged.  "Maybe this means we're close to unlocking whatever magical store's preventing us from being as advanced as you and Malfoy."

She grinned at him and nodded.  "I do hope so, Harry.  It's like finding a piece of yourself you never knew was missing."

Harry was quite a moment; then he chuckled.  "You know, you sound like Ron did when he said he'd fallen in love."

Her grin softened, and her brown eyes sparkled.  "Exactly, Harry, exactly."


	5. Five

_Five_

"While I know I'm gorgeous, Granger, it is impolite to stare . . ."

Hermione glared at the Slytherin.  It was as if nothing had changed between them.  He was still the same arrogant brownnoser he was from first year, only now he wore a shiny Head Boy badge and had administrative power.  Luckily their working together had produced few over-the-top arguments, but with Halloween coming up and only two more weeks to plan, tensions were running high.  This was their first major event for which they had to plan and she wanted it perfect.

Even if that meant doing it by herself.

"Don't flatter yourself, Malfoy.  I needed a vacant spot at which to stare and your face was the perfect candidate."

"All you had to do was conjure a mirror for that effect . . . or a photograph of your Weasel boyfriend."

She gritted her teeth.  "Bastard."

"Sorry to disappoint, but my parents were quite unhappily married at the time of my conception and birth, hence, I am no bastard.  But you do remain nothing than a mere Mudblood.  Truth hurts, doesn't it?"

She ignored the comment, but secretly steamed on the inside.  Hermione couldn't believe Malfoy's gall, even after all that happened.

_Ron was right—once a git, always a git._

"Look, _Ferret,_ we are Head Boy and Girl.  As such, we must learn how to work together and at least be civil with each other.  Besides, what would Ginny say if she knew her 'boyfriend' wasn't playing nice with her best friend?"

"Typical Gryffindor—go cry to the higher ups when things don't go your way."

She raised an eyebrow.  "How odd, I _seem_ to recall a certain Slytherin—who shall remain nameless—always running to 'daddy' whenever things didn't go as planned."

He rolled his eyes and gestured at her parchment.  "Keep past shit in the past.  Right now we're focusing on Halloween.  Let's see your ideas, then."

She looked at him for a moment before sighing and scanning her list.  "I suggest we have the Feast, as usual, but if we could convince the teachers to open up their classrooms, we could have a Trick or Treat throughout the school."

He rested his chin in his hand, and propped his elbow on the table.  "Isn't that a Muggle tradition?"

Her eyes challenged him.  "Problem?"

Malfoy stared at her for a moment before shaking his head quickly.  "Actually I think it's a decent idea, Granger.  The students will appreciate it since the Hogsmeade trip is cancelled now."

Hermione sighed and looked at her writing.  Dumbledore told them rumblings from the Death Eaters were becoming more intense, and it was only a matter of time before something would happen.  At first the trips were to be moved, but under Snape's insistence, Dumbledore cancelled them altogether.

"We have to do something.  The older students will get antsy if they can't do _something_ fun during the school year . . . damn Death Eaters!"

He smirked.  "Granger cursing?  How amusing."

"Better antsy than dead, I would say," Hermione muttered, ignoring him.

"Death can't be stopped, Granger.  It's coming sooner than you think."

His matter-of-fact tone scared her, even more so because it was devoid of its usual smugness.  She stopped writing and looked at him again.  Now he was bent over his writing as he made edits here and there.

"You're staring again—"

"What do you know?"

His quill slowed its pace and he shifted slightly.  "Should we have floating pumpkins again or should we branch out a bit?"

She threw down her quill in frustration.  "Dammit, Malfoy!  What do you know?  You're shifting and changing the subject like you're a criminal under interrogation!"

Silver eyes met her and she swallowed hard.  "Unfortunately, Granger, the high marks I get in Divination are totally unmerited.  I know as much as you do."

"You're lying," she accused.

"And even if I were, would it make a difference?  Do you honestly think Ginny and Potter are training for their _health?_  There's a war looming, Granger, and people _die_ in war.  It's inevitable."

"Then why doesn't the rest of the school train, then?  Surely you don't think the fate of everyone rests in the hands of four teenagers?"

He merely looked at her.  "Until three years ago the fate of the wizarding world rested in the hands of _one_ teenager.  Talk about your recipe for disaster . . ."

Hermione seethed.  "Harry did the best he could, considering!  Besides, he fought Voldemort many times and each time he survived!"

"Survival will not save the wizarding world, Granger; it will only give Voldemort the slaves he so desperately wants."

"You would know all about slaves, wouldn't you, Malfoy?  The way you treated poor Dobby was atrocious."

"No better than how Sirius treated Kreacher.  Wasn't he the one who helped Voldemort send Potty and company on that ill-devised rescue attempt?"

Hermione fumed but could not dispute his claims.  "How can you speak so ill of an 'ally'?  Then again I wouldn't be surprised if you pulled the wool over our eyes.  You _are_ the son of Malfoy, after all."

"Not by choice, mind you."

"But you had the choice to follow in his footsteps.  The way you talked about him since first year it was clear you were in training to be a Malfoy Junior.  Who's to say you haven't given up that training."

His eyes moved to a spot on the table and his hands tightened into fists.  "You know nothing about me _or_ my family Granger, so I suggest you shut up."

"Struck a nerve, have I?  Perhaps you now know how it feels when you insult _my_ family and other Muggle-borns!"

Malfoy rolled his eyes and sighed.  "I don't _care_ about Muggles, and I wish they didn't let Mudbloods in Hogwarts, but that doesn't mean I wish them eradicated, either.  Your lot does serve its purpose . . . the main of which proving my superior status to you . . ."

Hermione groaned in disgust.  "Ugh!  You are awful!  I'm beginning to think Ron may be right in his theory that you drugged Ginny!  Makes me wonder if Nia is as awful as you are!"

"Don't you _ever_ speak about her as such again!"

Malfoy's voice matched the coldness of his eyes and she shivered, but she wasn't finished.  "Such passionate defense of Miss Roberts . . . sure you're not playing both goddesses as your predecessor did all those centuries ago?"

"Playing?"

She looked at him tiredly.  "Yes!  Stringing them both along so you can get your kicks.  I wouldn't put it past you to do so . . ."

"As if I need to validate my relationship with my _girlfriend_ and my _best friend_ to you.  Then again, people could make the same claim about you, just as Rita Skeeter did all those years ago.  What was it?  Scarlet Woman?"

She turned red against her will.  "That horrid woman was lying and you know it!"

He shrugged.  "Like I said, I don't care what you do or, quite frankly, _who_ you do.  Just stay out of my business, especially when you don't know a thing about it."

"I'm just trying to protect my best friend from the likes of you!  One would think after all that's happened you wouldn't be this way.  But you're a bigger prat than you ever been!  There's no _way_ Ginny could've fallen in love with a guy like you!"

He cocked his head to the side and looked at the ceiling.  "Did you ever stop to think I'm only a 'prat' to people I don't like?  And, unless I've been as clear as fog, I'm pretty sure you know I don't like you."

"Because I'm a Mudblood!" she said heatedly.

He shook his head.  "That logic doesn't hold, because I don't like Weasel or Potty and they aren't Mudbloods . . . well Potty is a half-blood which, according to Lucius, is just as bad, but who really gives two shits about _him_ . . . the reason I don't like you is because you're a damn annoying Know-It-All."

Her mouth dropped open in a gasp.  "Don't call me that!"

He smirked at her.  "But the Weasel can?"

"He's my boyfriend!"

"Even more reason for him not to call you that.  I hardly think when he says it you think of it as a term of affection, at least not when _I've_ heard him say it . . ."

She opened her mouth to speak but there was no sound.  Hermione frowned as his words swam in her head.

His smirk grew wider and her frustration rose.  "I rather like you speechless.  It's much easier to think without your caterwauling."

"I wonder if the _real_ Osiris was such an arsehole," she muttered.

He grinned at her and shrugged.  "Probably."

"Of course you'd be proud of that.  Only fools would be proud of insults."

"And who thinks whose boyfriend's insults are endearing?"

She huffed.  "Oh like _you've_ never teased Ginny before!"

"I have, and she got me good each time.  I'm not a glutton for punishment."

"And yet, you got tricked by Set—twice.  I guess for you, being trapped in a coffin wasn't enough so you decided to get yourself chopped up.  Not a glutton for punishment indeed."

"Once again, you have no idea why that happened."

"Care to enlighten me?"

"Why should I?  You already know everything."

Hermione growled and stood roughly.  "You're such an insufferable prat!  I don't even know why I bother!"

"I don't either.  Seems we're in a bit of a quandary."

She sighed heavily and threw up her hands.  "I just—I just feel so _helpless!_  I want to help but I can't do anything about it, and I'm pissed off because Voldemort is taking away _our_ Halloween because his father was a Muggle.  The bitter prick!"

"Sounds like you're the one who's bitter, love."

She shuddered at the faux endearment.  "Don't ever call me that.  We're not, nor will we _ever_ be, together."

"Thank the gods for that mercy."

She huffed again.  "There's no use talking to you.  I wonder why Fate chose you as a reincarnate.  Why not Ron?"

"Because then he'd be in love with his sister—_oh!_"

The glee in his eye unsettled Hermione and she turned her back to him.

She could hear the smirk in his voice.  "The _real_ question is why not _you?_  The Mudblood is jealous!"

"I am not!" she insisted, but it wasn't as forceful as she would've liked it.

"Oh I daresay you are.  Which would want to be, Granger?  Nephthys?  Isis?"

She gripped the back of her chair tightly and gritted her teeth.  "I don't _want_ to be one of them!"

She could feel Malfoy looking at her with smug skepticism.  "Sure you do.  You strive to be the best, Granger, and what's better than being a goddess, with the ulitmate magical prowess this side of the heavens?"

Hermione closed her eyes at his claims.  She couldn't deny the brief bout of jealousy she felt when Dumbledore told them about the Egyptian gods.  She was well aware Malfoy, Ginny, Harry, and Nia were all from families with magic, and her insecurities of being a Muggle-born witch were brought to the fore.  

"As if I don't have enough problems," she muttered.

"Exactly, Granger, so why wish to be at the top of Voldemort's and Set's hit list?"

"I'm already there!  I _am_ Harry Potter's best friend!"

Malfoy lifted an eyebrow.  "Sorry to disappoint, but you've been demoted on the list."

She turned and glared at him.  "How would you know?  Been talking to 'daddy'?"

"Don't talk to me about him.  I don't give a shit what happens to him.  I hope someone AK's him to oblivion."

She became scared as his body began to tremble violently.  "Malfoy?"

It was apparent he wasn't listening to her and his hands began to glow in a silvery light.  "He tried—he tried to take her away from me . . . he tried to ruin her, as he did my mother . . ."

Hermione's eyes darted from his fists to his face and his eyes whited over.

"Shit."

No sooner had the curse left her mouth than a silver jet barreled towards her.  She ducked in the nick of time, and the wall was behind her became nothing more than a pile of rubble.  Her body trembled with fright and adrenaline as she slowly rose again.

She stared at him for a moment.  "You tried to kill me!"

This silver haze around his fists disappeared and his eyes returned to normal.  They were wide, but a small smirk appeared on his face.  "No, Granger, I didn't.  If I _did_ try to kill you, you would be dead already."

She opened her mouth to reply but someone beat her to it.

"Draco!"

Hermione whirled to see Ginny climbing over the rubble and rushing to Malfoy's side.

"What are you doing here?" Hermione asked in surprise.  "You have class!"

"I have Jamilah.  She let me out early," Ginny murmured as she cradled his face in her hands.

There was a rumble behind Hermione and she turned again, only to see the wall reformed as if nothing had happened to it.

"You've got to be joking," she said warily.

"Cool, huh?" 

Hermione turned towards Ginny with a look of disbelief..  The younger girl was now in Malfoy's lap and grinning, running a hand through his hair as he rested his cheek in the crook of her neck.

"It's as if you tamed the wild beast!"

Ginny smiled and kissed his forehead.  Malfoy snuggled closer to her and closed his eyes.  "In a way I did.  I felt his distress in class, the magical buildup was unhealthy and dangerous."

"I'll say," Hermione snorted.

"You've said quite enough, Granger.  If only you'd shut up when I told you to," Malfoy drawled.

She was aghast.  "_What?_  How dare you blame _me_ for _your_ lack of control!"

"You speak too much and listen too little."

She gasped in disbelief and appealed to Ginny.  "Are you listening to this?"

The redhead looked at her apologetically.  "He _does_ have a point, Hermione . . ."

Hermione narrowed her eyes.  "He's brainwashed you!"

Ginny rolled her eyes and shook her head.  "Need I remind you about your accusation of Draco being a Death Eater?"

"He was!"

"But you thought he would turn me over to Voldemort."

Hermione sputtered a bit.  "What else was I supposed to think?  After Ginny's dream and all . . ."

Malfoy moved his head and sat forward, his free arm resting on the table.  "Listen, Granger, and listen well because I'm only going to say this once.  I _love_ Ginny.  I would never do _anything_ to hurt her.  I'd forsake _all others_ to keep her safe and secure—even my own life.  So if she's _ever_ in danger, look somewhere other than me for the cause, because I'd sooner AK myself than to put her in harm's way.  Are we clear?"

Hermione crossed her arms before her.  "What about Nia?  Would you forsake her as well?"

Malfoy seemed deflated and Hermione couldn't stamp the feel of triumph.  She glanced at Ginny's expression and saw it was sad.

"That's not fair, Hermione."

She raised an eyebrow.  "Why isn't that fair?  He was passionately defending her earlier today, more so than he ever had with you."

"I don't need defending . . ."

"But Nia does?"  Hermione sat down again and clasped her hands on the table.  "Tell me something, Malfoy:  Why are you so protective over her?  Nia Roberts is not your girlfriend—Ginny is."

Malfoy sighed deeply.  "Once again, you're sticking your nose where it is not wanted nor necessary."

Hermione's look could've melted steel.  "Oh it _is_ necessary.  I'm not going to stand by and let you string Ginny along for the ride!"

"He's not stringing me along, Hermione."

Hermione looked at Ginny as if she grew another head.  "He made that grandiose speech about forsaking others, Nia should be included, no?"

"We're not _married_, Granger!"

"But you _love_ her!  There _can't_ be any others.  What if something that happened this summer happens again, but this time you have to choose between Ginny and Nia?  Who's it going to be, Malfoy?  Who has more of your heart?"

"That is _enough!_"

Hermione snapped her mouth closed at Ginny's snarl.  A scarlet haze began to glow around Ginny as she stood from Malfoy's lap.  Hermione backed away from her.

"Draco, leave.  Tell Jamilah I'll be down soon."

Malfoy snorted and gathered his belongings.  He looked at Hermione smugly.  "I told you to leave well enough alone."

He kissed Ginny's lips briefly and left the room.  Hermione's eyes followed his progress until the door shut.  She looked at the other girl.

"Ginny—"

"Sit down, Hermione."

Hermione's eyes darted to the ceiling before sitting down and looking at Ginny.

"I'm just looking out for you."

Ginny smiled tightly and the haze began to disappear.  "That position is rather crowded as it is, Hermione.  I have six older and horribly overprotective brothers, as well as a mother who would just as sure as chain me to her hip to make sure I was out of danger, _and_ two boys who would willingly give their life and limb for me.  I think I'm pretty well covered."

"I understand that—"

"But do you understand what you asked Draco is essentially asking Ron to choose between you and me if we were ever in such a scenario?"

Hermione's heart froze for a millisecond as Ginny's words hit home.

"Oh God—"

"Draco and Nia are siblings in every way except for blood.  He loves her so much and would do _anything_ to protect her, just as my brothers would for me, and Harry would for you."

Hermione felt such shame at her accusations.  "I never even thought of that . . ."

"I thought you said you were happy for us?"

Hermione sighed and reached across the table to hold Ginny's hand.  "I _am_ happy for you!  But he—he just gets to me, you know?  He knows all the buttons to push to get on my nerves."

Ginny snorted.  "He doesn't like you very much."

Hermione grinned a bit.  "He said that, but then again it was never a secret.  I just can't get over how he's so different when he's around you."

"That's simple.  I don't treat him as Lucius Malfoy.  I treat him as Draco Malfoy.  They are two different people, Hermione.  And unfortunately, Draco is all about meeting people's expectations.  If you expect him to act like an arse, he will be the biggest arse you ever did see."

Hermione squeezed Ginny's hand.  "It's hard to undo seven years of habits, Ginny."

"But you have to change with the times.  He's definitely not the same bloke he was when I met him my first year.  I knew something would happen between us when he teased me about my Valentine to Harry."

Hermione giggled at the memory.  "That was mighty brave of you to do, Ginny.  I could've never done something like that for Ron then!"

"You do have an impossible ability of not seeing what is so clearly in your face."

"Thanks for your vote of confidence," she said with a scowl.

Ginny laughed and pulled her hand away.  "You're so quick to find logical explanations for everything, when sometimes, logic is not enough.  There's heart and instinct that goes along with human behavior, Hermione.  You can't find out everything in a book."

Her brain connected the dots.  "You mean his relationship with Nia."

The redhead nodded and reclined in the seat.  "If you think _I_ need protection, it's not half as much as Nia needs.  She's not nearly at a level where she could protect herself from Set or Voldemort."

"Well why not?  She blasted Crabbe last year?  And what about the dreams she has?"

Ginny shook her head.  "The only thing she predicted was the death of her mother, and was because their bond was so strong.  She hasn't got a bond that strong with anyone."

"Not even Draco?"

"I guess that's not a fair statement to make; we should be lucky there hasn't been anything dire for her to predict with Draco as of late."

Hermione nodded slowly.  "What about Harry?"

She shook her head again.  "She's too busy denying it and stamping down her feelings.  They have a very strong link, but according to Jamilah, Nia keeps ignoring things."

"Things like what?"

Ginny shrugged.  "Who knows?  Ever since she saw Harry's parents die she's been tight-lipped about what she sees during the link exercises and—"

"What?"

"Huh?"

Hermione squinted her eyes at Ginny.  "What do you mean she saw 'Harry's parents die'?  Nia wasn't even alive when that happened, and Harry was only a year old!"

The younger girl sighed and shrugged.  "Apparently during a link exercise Nia tapped into a memory of Harry's—_that_ particular memory."

"Legilimency?  Isn't that rather advanced?"

"Keep in mind Harry threw off the Imperius curse at Nia's age."

"Well, yes, but—"

"But what?"

"Never mind," Hermione exhaled, then grinned a bit.  "But it's clear yours and Malfoy's is a strong as ever."

Ginny blushed and nodded.  "We're almost flawless in our exercises—sometimes I get distracted and see his memories, too."

Ginny's tone became sad and Hermione frowned.  "They aren't pleasant, are they?"

Ginny shook her head and looked at her hands.  "Lucius was a demon!  He and his mother lived in constant fear.  No one here really _knows_ Draco—no one except me and Nia."

"That still doesn't give him the right to be so nasty to us."

"No it doesn't, but he _does_ keep you on your toes."  Hermione chuckled at the comment.  "But he would really like your trust.  He's tired of having to prove himself to _everyone_ just because of his name."

"Just as Harry is tired of being treated as some sort of demi-god just because of his name."

"Well that's hardly fair . . . considering he's a full god," Ginny snickered.

They shared a laugh and Hermione felt a bit lighter.  "I still can't believe it, though."

"And you think I can?  Every morning I wake up and feel this other presence within me. . it's such a foreign, yet familiar feeling . . ."

"You mean the reincarnated god?"

"Not exactly . . . it's more the magic that comes with being a goddess.  It's more potent, more tactile than the magic I felt before my fifth year."

Hermione rubbed her hands together.  "That's so unreal . . ."

"It is.  Most witches and wizards need a wand to control their magic, but we can't afford to have it.  That's why we train for wandless magic."

"Why not other Aurors?"

"It's difficult to manage raw magic, and regular witches and wizards need the buffer.  Besides, I'm not sure but I think there is an elite class of Aurors who do use wandless magic, but then again, no Death Eaters use it, so it's probably unnecessary."

"But the four of you need training.  Why's that?"

"We're not fighting the normal Death Eaters.  Our targets are Voldemort and Set."

"Voldemort uses a wand."

"He used to use a wand.  Ever since Set has come back, Voldemort hasn't had a wand in his hand.  He didn't use it at the Dark Conception Ritual."

"And Set?"

"One of the most powerful of the Gods.  It will take more than an Avada Kedavra to bring him down."

"He killed Osiris before—twice.  What makes you think Malfoy won't fall?"

Ginny sighed deeply.  "If Malfoy falls, it will be intentional . . . just as Osiris did."

"Intentional?  But that's not what the books—"

"You can't learn everything from a book, Hermione."

The older girl frowned and shook her head.  "So much to know . . ."

Ginny nodded and stood.  "Yeah . . . speaking of knowing, I need to get to my extra lessons.  We'll chat more later, okay?"

"I'll go out with you."

Hermione gathered her things and walked out with Ginny.  "Have a good session."

Ginny smiled and squeezed her hand.  "Thanks.  See you soon."

They walked in their separate directions, but Hermione's mind whizzed with thoughts.  The link was a fascinating feature, something which explained very much.  It was clear with Ginny's quick appearance hers and Malfoy's was very strong, but then again they loved each other.  Hermione reasoned affection played a crucial role in the strength of the links, which lead to the next question:  how deep is the affection between Harry and Nia?  Did Harry even know about the correlation?  That's not to say these so called 'links' were relegated only to the 'gods' so to speak.  She often saw Mr. and Mrs. Weasley share unspoken moments, and sometimes Hermione thought they could read each others' minds . . . then she thought of her own relationship with Ron, and there were many instances where their nonverbal communication was just as clear as the verbal.  Hermione wondered if these links manifested themselves differently in the 'gods' as opposed to normal witches and wizards.

_Perhaps I should go to the library . . ._

Oddly enough, she didn't want to go right away.

_There's a first!_

She chuckled at herself.  Ron would be proud of her not going there the minute she wanted to know something.  As much as it pained her to admit it, Ginny was right.  Not everything she could learn comes from a book, and love was among the important things she could know.  It took a tall, solid redhead to teach her that, not any book she could find in the library.

_Perhaps love has more to teach me . . . like the ability to be yourself . . ._

She knew for her, it wasn't until she admitted her feelings for Ron she finally felt free; she finally felt secure in her skin to be able to make mistakes and gaffes and still know Ron loved her.  Just by seeing the interaction between Malfoy and Ginny, she knew it was the same for them.  Malfoy was _nothing_ like his prat self before Ginny came, and when she did, it was as if Hermione watched him transform before her very eyes.

_It was simply amazing_.

Malfoy looked at ease . . . _happy_ even . . . Ginny made him happy, and it made him nicer—even if he did still annoy her.  Hermione thought it was more out of habit and even a sense of familiarity he so desperately needed, for she knew love was a foreign concept to him.

Hermione's mind drifted to Mr. Malfoy and she shuddered.  In certain ways he scared her more than Voldemort ever could.  Voldemort was all about annihilation, but Malfoy Sr. wanted humiliation before annihilation, and he was a sadistic, uncouth man.  When he spoke, his voice was like velvet, which covered his nettle words to woo people to danger—it was scarier than any scream Voldemort could make.  For a child to be raised in an environment as such, she could almost forgive Malfoy's behavior.

_Almost._

But she couldn't shake the disorientation she felt whenever Malfoy was with Ginny or Nia.

Nia was an enigma in her own right.  Hermione noticed something was different about the young Slytherin the first time they met in the hallway her fifth year—the way Harry stopped and stared at her, and she to him, was intriguing.  The name Harry uttered—Isis—threw her for a loop, and apparently Nia as well.  Not only that, the girl was a Slytherin, a Sorting Hermione never fully understood.  Nia didn't act like many of her house—believing in purity of blood and being mean.  Nia _did_ dislike them though, but Hermione could hardly blame her for that considering the way they treated her, _especially_ Harry.  

_That's a whole other can of worms . . . that will be opened if I have anything to do with it!_

It was clear, despite Harry's denial, there was something going on between him and the fourth year.  Hermione herself only came to terms with it after the raid, when Harry rushed into the room to calm a frantic, yet unconscious Nia.  His expression was totally unguarded as he turned concerned eyes to the younger girl and wiped the sheen of sweat from her brow.  That one simple action let Hermione know what he felt for Nia was not disgust or even tolerance.

He cared for her—a lot.

Hermione hadn't been able to talk to him about it.  She was so busy with her Head Girl responsibilities and studying for N.E.W.T.s, not to mention his own extra lessons.  But after some conversations with Ginny, especially about the link, Hermione felt the discussion was long overdue.

Sooner than she realized she was at the Tower and she said the password quickly.  The portrait opened and she climbed inside.  There were few students in the Common Room though the seventh years didn't have class; she figured they were either in their rooms or outside.  Hermione went to her room and put her bundles down, changing out of her uniform to wear a pair of jeans and a tee shirt.  She looked around her room and sighed.  She didn't want to be alone right now, and she didn't want to go outside.  Hermione decided to go to the Common Room and catch up on some reading.  Hopefully she'll catch Harry and Ron at some point.  She picked up a book—for once not _Hogwarts, a History_—and went down to her favorite easy chair in the corner of the room.  She curled herself in it and opened up the book to use her finger as a marker.  Her eyes scanned the room and she smiled softly.  There were students playing Exploding Snap, gossiping, and few who were actually doing work.  She wished it could stay like that, but according to Malfoy, this scene would become a figment of their imagination.

Hermione sighed and fully opened her book, her eyes merely glancing over the page.

"Hermione!"

Her head snapped up and she grinned.  "Hey, you two.  Where have you been?"  Ron came and kissed her lips quickly as Harry took the seat across from her.

"Outside goofing around.  It'll get cold soon," Harry told her.

"Nice going, mate!  Take the seat from me," Ron mock-complained.

"You've got two legs and two arms; find another chair and bring it over, 'mate'!" Harry teased.

Hermione smiled and rolled her eyes at their antics.  "Did you have fun?"

He smiled at her and followed Ron's progress with his eyes.  "Dean had his football out and taught us to play.  It was fun, yet very rough . . . almost like Quidditch on the ground."

"I've always liked football.  My dad and I used to watch games together."

Harry looked surprised.  "You watched sports?"

She looked at him incredulously.  "Who is front row at every Quidditch game you play?"

He lifted his eyebrows and nodded.  "Point taken . . . speaking of games, it seems Ron's found a chessboard.  I pity Colin."

Hermione looked towards them and shook her head.  "I wouldn't write Colin off just yet, he's pretty good, apparently.  They'll be at it for a while, which is just as well because I'd like to talk to you."

She looked back at him and noticed his creased eyebrows.  He shrugged.  "What about?"

She grinned.  "You . . . and Nia . . ."

Harry blushed and ducked his head.  "There's nothing to talk about, Hermione."

"But you wish there was."

He shook his head.  "It would never work . . . she's too young."

"According to who?"

He shrugged and lifted his hand helplessly.  "Society for starters.  The fact she'll be here for three more years while I'm off at Auror training—"

"You think you'll need training after what you've been doing for the past two years?"

"I have to follow protocol.  I should think to be as efficient with a wand as without."

She nodded, conceding the point.  "That is true, but do you really think it'll make a difference one way or the other?"

He frowned and hesitated.  "You're not talking about Auror training anymore, are you?"

Hermione grinned at him.  "No I'm not."

He blushed again.  "How do you mean?"

She cocked her head a bit and sighed.  "Oh I don't know . . . you think you'll care for her more once she 'becomes of age' so to speak?  Or is it more about acting on these feelings you have for her?"

"It's none of those things.  I just don't want to scare her away."

"But I thought she had a crush on you!"

His face became flat.  "Ginny talks too much."

She chuckled.  "That she does, but she wants you to be happy . . . she knows you'll be happy with her."

He smirked.  "Everybody knows what's good for me more than _I_ know what's good for me."

Hermione's hand reached across the table to grasp his.  "You're so concerned with everyone else you don't have time to look out for you.  That's why you have a group of friends who do that for you."

He smiled briefly before his face became sad.  "And yet Nia won't have anyone once we leave . . ."

Hermione scoffed at that.  "Surely you can't be serious!  I'm sure she has friends—"

"I've been watching her.  She has no friends outside of Ginny, Malfoy, and me.  She and Goyle seem close, but he's leaving this year as well."

"Are we sure about that," Hermione muttered.

Harry chuckled and nodded.  "He's not as dumb as we think, Hermione."

"I'll take your word for it."

He squeezed her hand.  "Good."

She bounced their hands a bit before saying something.  "I think you should give Nia the benefit of the doubt as well.  I think she knows how to take care of herself."

He chuckled again.  "She said the same to me when I expressed my concern . . . I know intellectually she can—"

"But you still worry."

His free hand balled into a fist on the table.  "I can't help it, Hermione . . . I have this constant ache that someone will be taken from me.  Nia walked me through all those dear to me and told me I shouldn't worry, but she never mentioned herself.  She never said why _she_ wouldn't be taken, and the ache intensified."

Her eyes grew big.  "Is she dear to you, Harry?"

Their gazes locked for a minute for he broke contact.  "We are not up to par in our training, Hermione, not like Malfoy and Ginny," he said, not quite answering her question.  "They're doing the drills and doing everything right.  For some reason Nia and I haven't found our rhythm, and that scares me.  She showed her magic first, but she can't control it as well as the rest of us can.  Part of it has to do with age, but the other part . . . I'm concerned.  There's something we're missing or something we're not doing that's not allowing us to meet our full potential."

Hermione listened to what he said carefully and licked her lips.  She tried a different question.  "Harry . . . do you love her?"

He didn't move or say anything for a good while, and she figured he ignored her.  She closed her eyes and shrugged.  "I—"

"Yes."

Hermione's mouth dropped open in shock.  "What did you say?"

"I love her, Hermione.  I love her so much it scares me.  All I want to do is hold her and protect her, but I can't because I'll be in London and she'll be here, vulnerable to that arsehole!"

She bit her lip and held his hand tighter.  "Have you told her yet?"

He shook his head.  "She's not ready, Hermione.  A crush is so much different from a lover—and I don't mean having sex.  I mean sharing such a big part of yourself with someone else.  She's just fourteen for Merlin's sake!  She's barely had time to have herself, let alone share herself with someone else!"

Hermione raised her eyebrows.  "To be fair, Ginny started getting serious with Malfoy last year, and she and Nia are only two years apart."

"Yes, but she and Malfoy are only a year apart, not three."

Her brows furrowed as she looked at him.  "Well what do you want to do, wait a year or two?"

"It would be best to wait until this whole thing is over.  It wouldn't be fair to her."

Hermione glared at him.  "That's the stupidest thing you've ever said to me, Harry Potter."

He blushed and laughed.  "Believe it or not, it sounded much better in my head."

She smiled at him briefly before becoming serious.  "Have you talked to Ginny about this, or Malfoy even?"

"I've spoken to Ginny a little bit.  She gets this smug look on her face every time I say something even remotely romantic about Nia.  It's very disconcerting."

"She hangs around Malfoy too much," Hermione muttered.

He smirked.  "She loves him, Hermione . . . I learned that the hard way . . ."

"We all did.  When Dumbledore recounted the story about the raid I'd never felt such shame in my life."

"Malfoy was ready to give his life for her.  It was then it solidified it for me.  We all know Slytherins are among the most selfish of people, and a Malfoy particularly so.  When I saw him sacrifice himself by allowing Dumbledore to tell Voldemort his true status, I couldn't help but feel respect, and a little defeat."

"I know you still love her," Hermione said.

"Of course I do, but it's not the same.  She was an obvious choice, you know?  The sister of my best friend, a part of the family I've always wanted to call my own . . . everything was in a nice little package for me—and then I kissed her, and I knew I was in love with the idea, not Ginny herself."

She had to ask.  "What makes you think it's not the same scenario with Nia?  You and Cho were on again, off again last year, remember?"

"I'd had a crush on Cho since my fourth year—"

"Like Nia has a crush on you."

He pursed his lips.  "Yeah . . ."

Hermione bit her lip and swallowed.  "Maybe it's not Nia who's ready.  Maybe you're afraid she'll act with you, the way you acted with Cho."

He nodded.  "Yeah.  I don't think I could handle it."

"Do you really think Nia would?"

He laughed a bit.  "She hated me for a while."

"You treated her horribly, but then again, you were going through some things."

"That's still no excuse."

"I'm trying to help you out, here!"

Harry grinned and looked past her.  "Even still, she always seemed to be there, right when I needed someone.  She kissed my scar, after Umbitch banned me from Quidditch.  That constant dread I'd felt left when she did.  Her eyes went wide as if she were scared and ran off.  I've never asked her why, but I figured she saw or felt Voldemort."

"You mean the link Ginny was telling me about earlier?"

"Maybe it activated when she kissed it?"

Hermione squinted her eyes.  "I don't think so.  Ginny and Malfoy have a link too, and to my knowledge neither one of them have scars—at least scars that can be seen."

He looked to her.  "What do you think?  I know you don't know as much about what's going on with us, but you're a brilliant witch."

"Harry," she said, her cheeks heating.

He rolled his eyes and squeezed her hand.  "Oh come off it, Hermione.  You know you're poised to break every N.E.W.T. record posted at this school."

"All right, all right!" she laughed.  She turned to look at Ron, whose brows were furrowed in intense concentration.  He looked up from the chessboard and locked gazes with her, his frown melting into a look of contentment.  He blew her a kiss and went back to the board, making a move that seemed to put him in prime position for a checkmate.

"Love," she said simply.

"Love?"

"You love each other, Harry."

He gave her a skeptical look.  "Right."

She shook her head quickly and held up a hand.  "Just listen for a minute . . . did you ever stop to think why you two are behind?"

He frowned.  "What are you getting at?"

"Think about it!  Perhaps the reason you aren't as proficient is because you haven't told her you loved her."

His shoulders slumped.  "That can't be it."

"Why not?  Love makes people stronger, despite the cliché.  Your mother's love protects you from Voldemort, Malfoy's love saved Ginny from Voldemort and Set, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley have one of the strongest links I've ever seen, and—"

"You and Ron are the masters of nonverbal communication.  Drives me _barmy,_ by the way," he muttered good-naturedly.

"Sorry," she said sheepishly.

"Don't apologize.  I'm very happy for you two."

"And I want _you_ to be happy, Harry Potter.  You deserve it possibly more than anyone else on the planet."

Harry sighed again.  "I still don't believe she's ready to hear it, and quite frankly, I'm not ready to say it."

"But you _have_ admitted to yourself—there's a start."

He ran a hand through his hair.  "This will change the way I behave around her."

She grinned conspiratorially.  "You know what they say—actions speak louder than words . . ."

"Do you really think she feels the same way?"

Hermione shook her head and shrug.  "I can't tell you that because I don't know her that well, but I will say this:  when she was unconscious, she seemed _very_ concerned for your welfare . . . and she can rarely keep her eyes off you during meals."

He blushed again.  "Honestly?"

She laughed.  "I wouldn't lie to you.  Had this been any other Slytherin I'd be telling you to run for the hills, but Nia, I think, is a very good foil for you."

He tilted his chin and grinned.  "Speaking of foils . . . here comes yours."

A chair appeared next to her, and Hermione suddenly felt lips to her cheek and strong arms around her shoulders.

"I won."

"As usual," she teased.

The lips kissed her again before moving away.  She watched Ron sit in the newly acquired seat and dart his eyes back and forth between them.

"So!  What was the discussion?"

Hermione lifted her eyebrows to Harry but he avoided her eye contact.  She huffed.  "Love, and how not to be afraid of it."

Ron scowled.  "Love?  What's to be afraid of, Hermione?  Aren't you happy?"

She pouted and rubbed her palm over Ron's cheeks.  "Of course I am, love!  I'm not talking for _me,_ but for Harry!"

The redhead became excited.  "You love my sister again?  Great!"

"Ron!" Harry and Hermione chastised.

"What?  Just a little wishful thinking," he mumbled and he sank in his chair.

She pulled him up in his seat.  "You could sink to the floor and still be taller than I am."

"You know you like it."

She rolled her eyes but couldn't stop the blush from spreading.  Hermione glanced at Harry and he grinned at her.

"Oh, the joys of love."

"There's no need to get sarcastic, Harry."

"It's joyful, all right, especially when she thinks she can get away with telling you what to do!" Ron complained.

Hermione looked at him cheekily.  "I _always_ told you what to do—from the first moment I met you."

"It was Fate!"

Ron made a face.  "Oh _do_ shut up!  I can't wait 'till _you_ fall in love!"

Hermione was smug.  "He already has."

"Why can't it be Ginny?"

Harry looked bored.  "Because she's in love with Malfoy . . . I thought that was made clear already."

"I know, I still can't stomach the fact she choose _him_ over _you_!  Makes me think my sister is off her rocker!"

Harry shook his head.  "She's more solid than most of the people at this school."

"As if that's hard."

"Ron!"

"Sorry, love."

"Be glad; their love is very important.  It makes them stronger magically speaking."

"Sort of the way you're love makes me strong, Ron," Hermione said as she bent to give him a kiss on the lips.

Harry scowled.  "And on that _lovely_ note, I'm off.  Need to change because I have training soon and Jamilah would kill me if I were late."  He stood from the table and began to walk to the stairs.

"Bye, mate!"

"Bye . . . oh!  And Harry!"

"Yes?"

She raised an eyebrow.  "Think about what I said."

He nodded and grinned.  "Yes, Miss Granger."

She watched him climb the stairs, all the while feeling Ron's eyes on her.

Hermione glanced at him and sighed.  "May I help you, Mr. Weasley?"

"Who's the girl?"

Hermione pursed her lips.  "You'd do better to ask him that."

He gave her an incredulous glance.  "Why ask him when you're sitting right here and know the answer?"

"I would be betraying his confidence."

"As if that's _ever_ been a problem for you!"

She looked at him dryly.  "This is not getting you the information any faster.  If you really want to know you should go ask."

"Of all the times to be loyal," he muttered.

"How about this—the girl he loves, I think, will make him very, very happy."

Ron offered a genuine smile.  "I'm glad.  He deserves all the happiness in the world."

"Agreed."

"Too bad it has to happen with a war looming . . ."

That foreboding pressure came back and she swallowed thickly.  "Something big is going to happen soon."

"Nothing more would make my decade than to see four teenagers blow up You-Know-Who with their magic."

"You and the rest of the wizarding world."

Just then Harry returned downstairs, changed but wincing.  He glanced at the door before coming towards the couple.

He was clutching his scar.

"Oh no," Hermione whispered.

Harry's face was in a perpetual wince and nodded slowly.

"Oh yes; Voldemort is happy about something.  and when he's happy, that's not ever good for the Order."

Ron's eyes hardened.  "Well do you know what they're trying to do?"

Harry shook his head.  "I don't know, but I know it's not good."

"Should we go to Dumbledore with this information?"

"He doesn't know any more than we do; besides, he _has _his insider."

Hermione sighed.  "So what do we do until then?"

Harry heaved a sigh and shrugged.  "Wait . . . and hope."


	6. Six

_Six_

Tonight.  It would all begin tonight.

Nothing would go wrong on this night, not on the night where people were out and about, saying that annoying little phrase for a few pieces of Muggle candy.

It was his favorite holiday, after all.

"They won't know what hit them," he said with a smug smile.

"Severus said Hogwarts wasn't allowing students to go into Hogsmeade," Voldemort reminded him.

Pettigrew shrugged.  "It doesn't matter.  Sooner or later, the children will have to come out . . . and I'll be ready.  Hogsmeade is merely an appetizer for things to come.  The main course is still being cooked."

The half-demon sighed.  "What do you plan to accomplish by razing Hogsmeade to the ground?"

Pettigrew turned to face Voldemort.  "Fear.  What else?"

"There is already fear; I've seen to that."

"But you have yet to wreak havoc on the wizarding world, and if you refer to that pitiful display your Death Eaters managed during the Quidditch World Cup, that was among the most pathetic displays I've ever seen in my life."

Voldemort snorted.  "Thank you."

"Anyway, they will be so distraught over the burning village they'll come down and try to rescue everyone.  It's the perfect plan to draw them out, so we can capture them."

"I thought we only wanted Isis."

"Of course.  But I want to torture the others before I kill them."

The other wizard shook his head.  "Waste of effort.  It would be best to just kill them all in one fell swoop."

Suddenly Voldemort was in the air, his eyes bugling as his hands futilely tried to remove the pressure around his neck.

"I've spent too many millennia looking for them, and if you think I'll make their demise easy, you have another thought coming.  Now if you fancy yourself giving me unwanted advice again, you'll find yourself in a burning building tied to a wall.  Do I make myself clear?"

Voldemort didn't say anything, but Pettigrew knew by his silence the other wizard complied.

His lip curled.  "Good.  We leave at eight."

He dropped Voldemort, who was gasping for air, and went to his private rooms.  Pettigrew muttered the password as the wall disappeared to allow him entrance to his quarters.

He poured himself some whiskey and drank it in one gulp, gasping a bit as the liquid went down his throat.  He stared into the fire as he spun his glass in his hand.

"Burn, baby, burn."

Fire was such a beautifully destructive element, and he cherished it greatly.  The smoke, the heat, the anguish—it was enough to send him leaping for joy.  The only thing left to do was wait for them to take the bait.

_Especially Osiris . . he always takes the bait._

Pettigrew's lip curled maliciously.  "He'll do anything to protect her."

The git sacrificed himself—twice—to keep his sister-wife safe, and each time said sister-wife outwitted him into saving her sacrificial brother.  The myths of their lives portrayed Osiris as an asinine god who fell for every pathetic trick on his life, but Set knew better.

_If it only it happened that way . . _

Set changed the accounts of what happened to boost his own popularity, and he had for a while, but even then he was subservient to someone else.

_Set was born a god, not a servant!_

But in the end, that never mattered.  He fell out of favor with Ra the moment he tore himself from his mother's womb, and since then, all the favor had been on his infernally _perfect_ brother and his sister-wife.  Nephthys hadn't been as important as those two, and he used that fact to his advantage . . but even she could not be swayed for long.

_Damn her astuteness._

Nephthys had always been too smart for her own good, despite her decision to leave with him.  He played on her insecurities, and even the most intelligent of women could succumb to his silver tongue.  He just wished she stayed down long enough to accomplish his goals, but now she had what she always wanted—Osiris' love.

Pettigrew rolled his eyes.  Just thinking about them gave him a toothache.

Love was for spineless men who hid behind their women.  Both Osiris and Apedemak suffered from that infliction, and for it Osiris got his body chopped up and Apedemak written out of history.

Set chuckled.  That would never happen to him—he _was_ history; he _made_ history.

Another chapter would be written tonight—the night where everything came to a head.

_This time, the world will know of my might!_

His hand curled around the glass, and he threw it into the fire, watching the flames roar to life as the remaining alcohol in the glass fueled it.  He'd forgotten how troublesome Osiris could be—almost more so than Apedemak.  The ruler-god had been such a non-issue for so long he didn't even fit into Set's plans.

_But that was before the bastard ruined my Conception Ritual . . ._

That little twit Malfoy played him for a fool, and for that he would pay.  This time, not only would he chop up the body, but he'd cremate it in the fire, ensuring the infernal god wouldn't reappear again.

Pettigrew chuckled.  "Oh yes.  Fire is a _most_ beautiful thing . . . just as her eyes are—the color of fire . . . and her sister's hair—soft flames burning down her back . . ."

He wiped off the drool that began to run down his chin before conjuring another glass of whiskey.  They would be his this time.  He'd had Nephthys before, and she seemed perfectly fine in her vacant contentment.  Apedemak ruined it all by coming to rescue her, though it was Osiris behind the entire thing.  He'd always thought the love Osiris felt for Nephthys was more than platonic, and if Set had any doubts about that before, they were all removed when he saw Draco's staunch defense of the Weasley girl; the imbecile even had the gall to smirk at him once Dumbledore revealed his true identity.

_Oh yes . . . they will pay . . . greatly . . _

Maybe this time he'd get Thoth as well; he was a meddlesome old god.

Thoth couldn't let Osiris _stay dead_ as he was supposed to—oh no, he had to help Isis bring her _stupid_ brother-husband back to life.  Set could've screamed when he saw Osiris at the banks of the Nile, and he knew Thoth had something to do with it.  It was no secret Isis had been receiving instruction from Thoth for a long time, and he was the best magician in the land.  Thoth was perceptive, powerful, and proficient.

It was annoying, really.

Dumbledore was just as bothersome as the essence within him and, unfortunately, just as powerful.  For all of Dumbledore's eccentricity, there was a reason Voldemort feared the old wizard so much.  Even when he was at Hogwarts, Pettigrew trembled at the sight of the Headmaster; he always seemed to know the truth just by looking at someone.

Thoth was the same way, except he didn't even have to look.  It was as if Thoth picked up on some kind of scent or other non-visible clue that revealed someone's untrustworthiness.  Dumbledore was a liability to the cause, and he had to be eradicated with the rest of the gods.

_Easier said than done . . ._

Pettigrew growled and began to pace.  He knew this attack was only the beginning, but it was time to bring things out in the open.  All of the undercover offensives were getting them nothing but defeat, but bringing innocents in would bolster morale and pleasure.  He also knew Dumbledore would keep the little gods and goddesses away from Hogsmeade . . . but he had a feeling they wouldn't listen.

He hoped they wouldn't; this fire was for them.

Pettigrew chuckled.  He couldn't wait to meet her . . . to meet Isis.  He wondered if she would be as beautiful now as she was then: mahogany skin and golden eyes, hair the color of midnight and a smile as bright as the sun, a body of soft, luscious curves that made many a god turn twice to look, then fall into deep depression because she didn't belong to them.

She _didn't_ belong to him.

She belonged to Apedemak.

Pettigrew threw this glass in the fire as well.  The most powerful goddess in the world went and fell in love with the lion god from the south.  Apedemak was not worthy of her, just a big pussy who hid behind honor and loyalty.

_Well, bollocks to that!_

Pettigrew refused to lose to some teenage twit—the war _or_ Isis.  He didn't care how old the reincarnate was, or even if she were a fat, slovenly thing.  She had the essence of Isis, and that trumped any detriments the reincarnate could have.

_Oh well . . . guess we'll find out what they are tonight, won't we?_

He would win her this time, and _no one_—not Apedemak, not Osiris, or anyone else—would stop him.

_Get ready, my love . . . I'm coming for you . ._

He went to the small table by his armchair and rang the bell.  A small, worn house-elf answered the call.  "You rang, Sir?"

"Fetch my battle robes and draw my bath.  I have a 'hot' engagement tonight."

The house-elf bowed.  "As you wish, Sir."

"And another thing . . ."  The house-elf remained bowed as he waited for Pettigrew's next instructions.  "Tell Voldemort to call the followers to meet at the outskirts of Hogsmeade.  It is time."

Pettigrew turned his back to the house-elf and grinned as he heard the bathwater running.  This time his drink of choice was scotch, and he downed it quickly.

"What to do when I finally catch the smarmy little bastards . ." he muttered.  "Must ponder that as I soak."

Pettigrew chuckled evilly as he shed his clothing as he walked to the bathroom.  He eased himself in the warm tub and closed his eyes, breathing in the scent.  "Frankincense . . ."

He sank further into the tub and sighed.  He'd been so consumed with the attacks he never planned the appropriate victory party.  Of course much had changed from the original circumstances all those centuries ago—the essences of his foes were inside mere teenagers.  Not that it mattered to him; he would delight in destroying them.

He thought to put them under a permanent curse, similar to Imperius, except their feelings of helplessness would increase ten fold.  They would know exactly what they were doing, but could no more stop it than time.

Pettigrew smiled.  "Helplessness is a most awful feeling . . . I will delight in seeing them deal with it for the rest of their lives!"  He took another deep breath and frowned.  "Maybe not the Weasley girl—perhaps I can let Voldemort borrow her for a while . . . and let the Malfoy boy watch!  Splendid!"

He laughed cruelly as he stepped from the bath and changed into his robes.  He smirked at his reflection in the mirror.

"It won't be long now, my pet . . . I eagerly await thee!"

He blew a kiss to the mirror, then Apparated where the other Death Eaters and Voldemort were waiting.  They bowed before him, and he rolled his eyes.

"Stand up, you idiots!" he snarled as he kicked one of them over.  Voldemort said nothing, letting the god take the lead.  "Tonight is the night we let the world know our might!  We will make it pure for us and our families and eradicate the muck that taints our magic and our blood!"

The Death Eaters cheered, and Pettigrew could feel their sadistic glee.

"Hogsmeade will burn tonight as a testament to our strength!  We will destroy those who dare stand in our way!  We will capture the four who continuously deny our victory, battle after battle!  Mr. Harry Potter, whose mother's love won't be enough to save him this time.  Mr. Draco Malfoy, who betrayed his father and his bloodline because of lust.  Miss Ginevra Weasley, who is a blood traitor and caused the shining hope of our cause to decry it all for a piece of arse—she will not deny us a second time.  And lastly, a girl who has yet to be named, but could potentially be a bigger threat than the other three _combined._  She will be a great asset to the cause.  We will accomplish this all tonight, my Death Eaters.  This fight will not be in vain!"

They cheered again, and he smiled.  Pettigrew looked toward Voldemort.  "Anything to add?"

Voldemort crossed his arms, his wand pointed heavenward.  "I'm eager to start the demise of Potter.  Give me the word."

"Why do you have your wand?"

Voldemort smirked.  "I want to kill Potter with it—the same wand that killed his parents."

Pettigrew grinned at him and waved his hands over the group.  "_N0te._"

The bodies of the Death Eaters shimmered, as did Voldemort's.  The Dark Lord gave him a curious glance.

"A Fire Protection spell, Voldie."

"What about you?  Won't you need it?"

Pettigrew said nothing and held his palms out toward the town.  His eyes closed, and he began to mutter.  _"Tooute kwxt."_

The streetlamps went out one by one, and the light gathered around his palms.  The Death Eaters gasped in disbelief and moved out of the way of the fireballs.  Surprised exclamations could be heard from the town, even some squeals of delight.

Pettigrew's smile became larger at the looming danger they faced.  He fashioned the light into a medium sized ball, and it glowed menacingly.  _"Mi0e."_

Suddenly the ball of fire shot from his hands and hit the building directly in front of Zonko's Joke Shop.  Heart-wrenching wails and blood-curdling screams rang through the night sky as people fled the blazing town.

It was music to his ears.

The Death Eaters hadn't moved a muscle since the light from the lamps gathered around him.  Pettigrew sighed and rolled his eyes.  "Must I say _everything _in English?  I said 'attack!'"

Immediately the Death Eaters sprang into action.  Curses flew in a colorful display as he and Voldemort watched the chaos unfold.

"Nice shot," Voldemort muttered.

"Thank you."  He grinned, and they walked lazily into the blazing town.

ssssssssssss

There was happy chatter in the Great Hall as the pumpkin candles floated above them.  The ceiling was menacing and cloudy—the perfect atmosphere for such a holiday.  Halloween was always a festive time for Hogwarts students, and even the teachers lost their worry for this brief moment.  Later that night everyone would put on costumes and trick or treat through the halls of Hogwarts, tricking themselves into believing a war wasn't on the brink of starting and treating themselves to an illusion—at least for the night, anyway.

She wanted nothing more than to leave.  She didn't feel like putting on a costume.  In fact, she didn't even feel like eating.  Her stomach felt queasy all day, and she'd had a restless night's sleep.

_Something's going to happen tonight . . . something bad._

She dreamed last night.  She couldn't remember many of the details, but she did remember seeing fire, and the only word she could recall was "hell."

She shuddered violently.

"Ginny?"

She yelped and snapped her head up, her eyes focusing on the speaker.  "Ron!"

"Are you all right?  You've been holding your stomach ever since you sat down, and not only that, but Malfoy's been staring at you like a cobra ready to strike!"

Her eyes darted to the Slytherin table and met Draco's frowning face.  His eyes were piercing and full of concern.  She shrugged and shook her head.  His frown deepened and inclined his head toward his right.  She looked where his head directed and gasped.  Nia's posture eerily mimicked hers.

_Oh no._

"Ginny?  What's wrong?"  Ron asked again, this time placing a comforting hand on her shoulder.

"Stomach's queasy," she muttered.

A wand appeared in her line of vision and tapped her goblet.  Ginny frowned and peered into it.

"It's ginger ale.  It should help settle your stomach," Hermione explained.

Ginny lifted her eyebrows in comprehension, but didn't take a sip.  "Thanks."

"Uh—aren't you going to drink it?" Ron asked.

She glanced at him before taking the cup and drinking its contents.

Hermione looked at her expectantly.  "So?"

Ginny offered a brief smile.  "Thank you for the help."

The older girl became sullen.  "But it didn't."

"You meant well."

"Maybe you should go lie down," Harry said slowly.

Ginny nodded.  "That sounds like a good idea."

"I'll walk with you, then," he suggested, looking toward Ron for confirmation.

"Thanks, mate.  We'll be up shortly."

Harry nodded and walked Ginny out of the Great Hall.  His hand grasped her arms lightly as he led her through the Entrance Hall, but instead of heading up the stairs toward the Tower, he led them to the dungeons.  He stopped them by a wall a little ways past the Potions classroom.

_"Ouwn."_

The wall slid open, and he escorted her through it, her eyes looking upon him questioningly.  He ignored her look and didn't let go of her until the wall slid closed behind her.

"Where are we?" she asked.

"Sirius' room."

"Where is he?"

"Order Headquarters."

She looked at him with a confused expression.  "But how?  No one's supposed to know—"

"He's there with Snape."

Her confusion increased.  "Why?"

Harry took a deep breath.  "Because they think Death Eaters are to be called tonight."

The color left her face.  "How do you know this?  Wasn't Snape at dinner?"

He shook his head.  "No.  And I know this because I overheard Snape talking with Sirius earlier today when I went to see him."

The sickening feeling she had increased ten-fold, and she held her stomach.  "Don't tell me this, Harry . . ."

"You know something, don't you?  You dreamed."

She shrugged.  "So what if I did?  I don't know what the hell it means!"

"What did you see?  If you told me, we could make it better!  We could stop them!"

She hunched over and walked toward a chaise, where she collapsed in it unceremoniously.  "Stop them?"

Her voice was hollow, and Harry went around and knelt before her.  "We can stop them, Ginny."

She looked at him incredulously.  "How?"

He gave her a wry smile.  "Why do you think we've been training our arses off for the past year?"

_"To give the thin and thick of it, all hell will break loose in a year's time."_

"Asar!"

She sucked in a wild breath, and her eyes grew larger.  Asar warned them when she and Draco stumbled upon the Room, and she'd all but forgotten it until now.  It had been a year since they'd been in the Room, and everything the gods told them had come into fruition.

"Ginny?"

She didn't register his voice.  Her mind flashed to her dream.

"Hell!  Fire!  Set!"

Her exclamations came in spurts, and she felt Harry's strong arms come around her.  He dragged her to the floor where he was, and his hands ran through her hair in a comforting gesture.

"Calm down, Ginny . . . calm down . . ."

She shook her head wildly and grasped his forearms.  "I can't!  It's starting today, Harry!  The war's starting today!"

A hand grasped her chin, and her eyes were directed to his.  "Are you sure about this?"

Ginny took a series of deep breaths before answering.  "I was warned—_we_ were warned it was to happen in a year.  I'd forgotten until now . . ."

"We _who_ were warned?"

She rested heavily against him.  "Draco and I were.  Asar told us when we found the Room and—"

"Room?  What room?  What are you on about?"

She pulled back from him to look in his eyes.  "There's a Room, with pictures of the gods.  They told us who we were, what our purpose was.  We stumbled upon it last year."

He frowned.  "Why haven't I been to this room?  Has Nia been?"

Ginny shook her head.  "They'll call you when you're ready."

His jaw clenched.  "We're doing the best we can!  We're not as advanced as you are, Ginny."

"We met the gods before we ever had our first training session, around three weeks before it, actually."

"And you didn't think to tell us until Christmas?!  No wonder you were giving Nia and me strange looks!"

Ginny bit her lip to keep the grin from forming.  "Right, Harry."

"Well, since you were able to meet them, when will Nia and I?"

She shrugged.  "When you're ready, they'll call you.  That's how it worked with us."

He frowned.  "But by then it'll be too late.  You think it's going to happen today!"

Ginny sighed and nodded.  "My dreams aren't as clear as Nia's, but what I saw, and Asar's warning, all lead to the same conclusion."

His arms slackened around her.  "Nia . ."  He eased her off his lap and stood.

"What are you doing?"

"Nia can't go."

Her brows furrowed.  "Can't go where?"

"She can't go with us to stop them.  It's too dangerous."

Ginny felt her annoyance rise.  "Oh, give me a _break!_"

He looked at her with a shocked expression.  "Ginny!"

She glared at him.  "She's been busting her arse in training, and you're going to tell her she can't go?  She'll curse you so bad you'll _wish_ it came from Set!"

"She's not ready!  I already said we weren't as advanced as you and Draco."

"If that's the case, you shouldn't go either!"

"But I know how to fight Voldemort and the Death Eaters!  We still have the wands to use, and I'm a legal adult now!  I will be of some use.  You and Draco can work on Pettigrew, and I can work on Voldemort."

"I thought she was getting better!  At least that's what Jamilah's been telling me."

Harry sighed and nodded.  "She is.  Our link sessions have steadily improved, and so has her control over wandless magic, but she's still not ready to go into the field!"

She sniffed.  "Don't be surprised if Nia shows up there anyway . . wherever 'there' is."

"You didn't get the location?"

Ginny shook her head.  "All I saw was fire.  I didn't get a read on the location."

"Dammit."

She watched as he began to pace and felt her dread rise again.  They couldn't _stop_ the Death Eaters if they didn't know _where_ they were going to be.  She tried to remember the rest of her dream, but the fire was all she could see.  She didn't know how they could stop them—she didn't feel prepared at all.  What if there were other people where the fire was?  Could they save them and stop the Death Eaters too?

_Ginny._

She sucked in a wild breath and yelped.

Harry stopped pacing and looked at her.  "Are you all right?  Did you see something?"

She shook her head.  "I didn't see anything else . . . sorry . . ."

_Ginny, where are you?_

Her frown deepened.  _Draco?_

He chuckled.  _Surreal, isn't it, love?_

Ginny nodded quickly.  _How are you doing this?_

_The link.  I didn't know where you were, so Nia suggested I try you telepathically.  She said she got the idea from some Muggle comic, _X-Men_ . . ._

She chuckled a bit.  _And you thought Muggles were worthless!_

She heard him humph, and she chuckled again.  _Just tell me where you are.  Nia has something to say that may prove interesting._

_I'm in the dungeons—Sirius' room._

_Good.  See you soon._

Her hand went to her forehead, and she gave a short laugh.  That was the most bizarre thing she'd ever experienced.

"What's so funny?  You had this dazed expression on your face, and you were laughing," Harry asked her.

"Draco and Nia are coming."

"What?  How do you know that?"

She grinned at him.  "Draco just told me."

He frowned.  "How could you possibly know that when you aren't even in the same—_oh!_  The link!"

Ginny nodded and laughed.  "That is _great!_  The link can help us out so much during the battle!  It's a sort of secret weapon!"

"Does it only work between you two?"

Ginny shrugged.  "I don't know?  Do you want to try?"

"Sure!  You try to talk to me," he said.

"Okay."  She closed her eyes and channeled her energy to her thoughts. 

_Harry?_

There was no reply, and she opened an eye to look at him.  His eyes were closed as well, and he seemed to have no sign of realizing her call.  She shook her head and tried again.  _Harry._

There was still no reply.  She smirked.

_Time for a little fun . . ._

_Harry Potter is the sexiest thing on two legs!_

He didn't respond.  Her eye opened again, and his countenance remained blank.  She frowned.

_Yesterday I saw Nia and another Slytherin fourth year—he was _very_ cute, by the way—holding hands and laughing as they walked to Care of Magical Creatures._

It was still quiet, and her shoulders slumped.

_Liar._

Ginny's eyes popped open and saw a smirking Harry looking her way.  She squealed and launched herself into his arms, legs locking at his waist.

"It worked!" she exclaimed.

"You _are_ lying about Nia, right?"

She pulled back and lifted an eyebrow.  "No . . . I was lying about the 'sexiest thing on two legs' comment.  You know that title belongs to Draco, love."

"Speaking of legs—_kindly_ put _my_ girlfriend's lovely pair on the floor where they belong, Potty."

She giggled at Harry's groan and disentangled herself from him.  She turned to see a glaring Draco watching them, his hands crossed before him.  Nia glanced at them before looking at her hands, brushing past Draco to get further in the room.

"Nia?" Harry said softly.

"Hmm?"  She still didn't look at him.

"It's not what you think," he assured her.

Her golden eyes met his, and she nodded.  "I know."  Her focus shifted to Ginny.  "Did it work?"

Ginny walked to the younger girl and hugged her.  "You're brilliant, you know that?"

Nia laughed shortly and returned the hug.  "I just read a lot, that's all.  I figure, if it worked for Scott and Jean, why not you and Draco?  Besides, Jean had red hair like you do!"

Ginny laughed and pulled away from her.  "And you?  Who would you be in this comic?"

Nia grinned.  "Storm—mainly because she's one of the few black mutants in the comic—but she has such a cool power."

"What is it?"

"She controls the weather, and she can fly."

"You, who doesn't like heights?" Harry asked liltingly.

She glared at him good-naturedly.  "I've been gettin' better!"

He nodded at Ginny.  "Yeah!  She lets me _breathe_ now!"

"And what does this 'Jean' character do?" Draco asked.

Nia looked at Ginny.  "She's a telepath.  She can read people's minds and control things without touching."

Ginny blew on her fingers and rubbed them on her jumper.  "I'm working on that . . ."  She saw Draco roll his eyes, and she sauntered toward him.  "Got something to say, Malfoy?"

He smirked and wrapped his arms at her waist.  "Nothing, love."

"Oh my God!"

The whispered exclamation resounded loudly in Ginny's ears, and she whirled in Draco's arms quickly.  "Nia?"

She saw the younger girl collapse to the floor, and Harry's arms came around her.  "Nia?  Nia, baby, speak to me . . ."

Nia began shaking her head and rocking.  "Fire!  Fire!"

Immediately an image came forth, and she saw people running frantically.  "Dear Merlin!"

"What is it?  Where is it?"

Ginny's eyes locked with Nia's.  Nia leapt to her feet, and Ginny followed her, ignoring Draco and Harry's cries.  They ran through the throng of students and pushed open the entrance doors.

Ginny gasped at the sight before her.  Hogsmeade was ablaze.

"Fuck."

Ginny turned to Nia in surprise.  "Nia!"

The other girl looked at her incredulously.  "I _know_ you're not about to chastise me as Hogsmeade turns into hell itself!"

Ginny heard screaming and looked behind her.  Students had come outside and were pointing and yelling at the inferno down the hill.

"Hogsmeade's on fire!"

"What about our trips?  What about the butterbeer?"

"How did it happen?"

"EVERYONE INSIDE!  _NOW!_"

Professors started leading the children back inside the castle.  She and Nia moved toward the greenhouses, out of the sight of the teachers.  As they reached their destination, Draco's voice popped in her head.

_Where are you two?_

_By the greenhouses._

She saw Draco and Harry run through the crowd toward them, their faces asking silent questions.

Ginny shook her head and looked back and the scene.  This had Set and Voldemort all over it.  "Yep . . . hell has most _definitely _broken loose . . ."

Nia glanced toward her.  "I reckon we should put it back where it came from then."  She went to go down the hill, but an arm stayed her.  "What the—"

"You aren't going anywhere."

_Oh shit!_

Nia turned slowly, her eyes as bright as the fire down the hill.  "What did you say?"

Harry was firm, his jaw set.  "You aren't going down there.  You'll stay up here where it's safe."

Nia's jaw dropped incredulously.  "You've _got_ to be kidding me!"

"What's about to happen here could make Hogsmeade seem like a candle burning," Draco whispered in Ginny's ear.

Ginny rolled her eyes and separated Harry from Nia.  "Now is not the time to get chauvinistic, Harry."

"But it's a trap!  Can't you see it?" Harry asked frantically.

"I see a town burnin' to ashes, and the longer we stand up here fightin' about it, the more people are gonna get hurt!"

Ginny sighed and nodded.  "Nia's right, Harry.  Jamilah has us training for a reason.  We've got to go and help."

"Well, you're not going without us!  We're coming, too!"

Ginny groaned as she saw Ron and Hermione join the group.  They weren't dressed in Halloween costumes either.

"Oh great, the Weasel wants to join," Draco said wryly.

"Just because my sister loves you doesn't mean I do, Ferret, so watch it!" Ron snarled.

"Hello?  Burnin' town, people, burnin' town!" Nia said.

"Right.  I agree with Potty, love.  You should stay here."

"But Drac—"

"Here me out, okay?"  Nia closed her eyes and nodded.  "I'm with Potter on this one—this is clearly a trap.  But as long as he doesn't know who you are, there's nothing for him to catch.  I'm not saying you can't help.  You can usually see what's happening whenever we fight, and you can be our eyes and ears—but in safety."

"And as I told Harry, I ain't sittin' here while y'all out gettin' yourselves killed!"

Ginny looked at the fire, then looked at Nia.  There was nothing more she wished to do than to go into the town and help them, but she couldn't leave Nia by herself, either.  Nia was right—she had a right to be involved more than as a sideline person, and Ginny would join in protest with her.

"I'll stay up here, then," she said after a moment.

Five pairs of eyes stared at her in surprise.  "You?  Giving up a chance to fight?  This must be a trick," Ron muttered.

Ginny glared at him before looking at Draco and Harry.  "I'll be here to keep Nia out of trouble."

"I _don't_ need a damn babysitter!"

Ginny quirked an eyebrow at her.  "Trust me."

She saw Draco narrow his eyes out the corner of hers.  _What are you planning to do?_

Ginny tilted her head but didn't return the message.  "You might want to go now, or there won't be a Hogsmeade left to save."

Draco's lips formed into a grim line, and he shook his head, walking towards her and grasping her neck gently.  She closed his eyes at the feel of his lips against her forehead.  "Love you," he whispered softly.

"Love you, too."

He pulled back and looked at Nia.  Her eyes followed and saw Harry cradle her face in his hands.

"I'll keep him safe for her," Draco murmured.

She nodded.  "I know he'll return the favor for me."

He kissed her forehead again and went to Nia.

Harry walked up to Ginny and hugged her.  "We'll be back soon."

"You better be, or there's no telling what Nia will do."

He looked toward the younger girl.  "I want her to be safe, Ginny."

Ginny smiled and cupped his cheek.  "I know you do, Harry.  You love her."

He grinned a little and kissed her cheek.  "See you soon."

He separated, and Ron and Hermione exchanged hugs as well.  Soon the four of them were off down the hill, and Nia came to stand beside her.  The fire seemed to grow larger since the last time she looked, and she took some comfort that there were Aurors already down there helping and fighting.

"I should be down there," Nia muttered.

Ginny nodded.  "I agree, but Draco and Harry are right.  You should remain out of sight as long as you can—at the very least until you can control your powers better."

She snorted.  "You mean until I can be an expert like you are."

Ginny rolled her eyes and crossed her arms in front of her.  "That's not what I mean—"

"That is what you mean, Ginny.  Don't lie.  But it's a valid concern.  I ain't as good as you.  It's a wonder they ever picked me to be Isis . . ."

Ginny looked at her sadly and hooked her arm through Nia's.  "I think you're a brilliant girl, Nia.  It's just not your time yet."

"And when will that be?  When there's no wizardin' world to save?"

Ginny shook her head and brushed a tendril of hair from Nia's face.  "No.  Your time will come when you stop being scared."

Nia snorted again.  "Scared of what?"

"Of your feelings for Harry . . . of the feelings he may have for you . . ."

Nia tensed.  "I just have—"

"A tremendous amount of love for the Boy Who Lived."

Nia shook her head.  "No, I don't."

Ginny looked pointedly at her.  "Nia, be honest."

The younger girl pouted.  "I don't wanna!"

Ginny removed her arms from Nia's and wrapped them around her neck.  "You do know it's okay to feel that way, don't you?"

"No, it ain't."

Ginny pulled her head back.  "And why not?"

"I'm only fourteen, Ginny.  He wants a real woman, or at least deserves one."

"And you don't think his 'real woman' is you?  You're Isis; he's Apedemak.  You two love each other!"

Nia separated from her and walked down the hill a bit.  "And when Set's gone and the threat disappears, what will happen to this love?"

"Nia—"

"Who's to say what I feel for him is just the Isis in me respondin' to the Apedemak in him?"

"Because it doesn't work that way.  The people themselves have to be in love with each other before the essences have any chance at a reunion."

Nia gave her a sideways glance.  "And just how do you know this?"

Ginny grinned.  "A little birdie told me."

"And that explains why you two are so much better than we are—you two _do_ love each other."

"Yes."

"And that explains why Harry and I aren't—because we don't."

Ginny shook her head.  "No.  It's because you won't admit it to yourself."

Nia turned to face her.  "So it's my fault?"

Ginny shrugged.  "In a way, it is.  You're not being honest to yourself, and, in a sense, you're blocking some pretty powerful magic from coming through as it should."

"And if I just admit that what I feel for Harry is more than a crush, then I'll be as advanced as you and Draco?"

Ginny shook her head slowly.  "I'm not saying that.  There has to be a mutual admittance, at the very least to yourselves.  Draco had admitted he loved me to himself _long_ before he spoke a word of it to me.  That's why we were able to pick up on the wandless magic so fast."

"And when you finally told each other?"

A soft smile graced Ginny's face.  "It was as if the verbal declaration unlocked the last bit of magic.  It was the most wonderful feeling I'd ever felt in my life, Nia.  I'm not saying it will be easy, or even that you two will reach that point this year.  But admit it to yourself, love.  It'll take so many burdens off your shoulders, and you can stop lying to yourself."

"But it's so easy," Nia whined.

Ginny laughed shortly and raised her eyebrows.  "I know it is, but, in the end, it wastes so much valuable time and energy, don't you think?"

Nia bit her lip and nodded.  "I'll admit I've been very tired comin' out of the link sessions."

"It's hard trying to hide that from your partner," Ginny agreed.

"Yeah . . ."

_Ginny._

_Speaking of links . . . _

_Yes, love?_

_We're at the town, but we can't go inside because it's too hot and smoky.  I don't know how the Death Eaters are surviving in this hellhole._

Ginny smirked.  _Set's running the show, remember?_

_Yes, I know.  But we can't help anyone or stop the Death Eaters until we can see.  Granger's working on Fire Resistant charms, and Potter's trying to figure out a way to pierce the smoke.  But there's only so much we can do.  I think some Aurors are here, but I'm not sure . . ._

Ginny looked up and saw Nia staring at the fire.  She went beside her, not saying a word.

"The fire's not going out," Nia murmured.

"Harry contacted you?"

Nia nodded.  "This ain't good.  They can't do much if they can't even get into town."

"I know.  Maybe Pettigrew cast a spell on the fire?"

Nia did not answer and walked a few steps down the hill.  Ginny followed her.

"What are you thinking?"

Nia still didn't answer, but now a golden aura overcame her body.  Ginny's eyes widened as she saw Nia's eyes become gold—including her pupils and the whites of her eyes.  Thunder clapped above them, and she looked to the sky.  The new moon heavens became even darker, and she felt the electricity crackle through the air.

"Nia . . ."

The other girl still said nothing, and a mighty wind began to howl.  The dark clouds passed over the castle and settled above Hogsmeade.  Nia's arms rose to the above her head and she began to mutter.  "_W0i, xrok 0ax."  _

_Rain, cease fire._

"Bloody hell."

It was as if the sky poured a cauldron of water over the town, and the flames finally began to shrink.  Nia remained as such until the fire went out completely, and the golden aura around her disappeared.

"So that was your 'Storm' moment, eh?"

Nia grinned at her.  "You like?"

Ginny stared at Nia for a moment before she smirked.  "Draco's not going to like that.  Today he wore his good school robes."

Nia chuckled.  "He can cry me a river when he gets back."

_Whoever brought on the sudden rainstorm . . . thanks—bloody brilliant.  I expect a new set of school robes by Christmas._

Ginny giggled.  _Right, Draco.  I'll get right on it._

_I'm completely serious, love._

_Just get to kicking some Death Eater arse, will  you?_

She could feel his smirk.  _Yes, ma'am . . . do you want me to keep the link open?_

Ginny frowned.  On the one hand, she wanted to make sure Draco and the others were all right at all times, but she didn't want to hear all his thoughts, especially when she could do little to help.  _No.  Close it.  I have faith you'll come back to me._

_As if I would do anything else.  I love you._

_I love you, too._

She looked toward Nia, whose eyes were transfixed on the smoldering town.  She'd forgotten Nia could see what was happening during the battle.

Suddenly she moaned and fell to her knees, favoring her left side.

"Nia!"

Nia began to whimper and roll on the grass.  Ginny fell to the ground beside her and cradled Nia.  "What's wrong, Nia?  What are you seeing?!"

But her speech was too jumbled for her to answer.

Ginny reopened her link with Draco.  _Draco!  What's going on there?_

There was no reply immediately, and Ginny's panic increased.

_Draco!_

_It's getting pretty serious here.  Pettigrew just hit Harry with some sort of Stunner—he's rolling on the ground in pain.  I think Sirius has got Harry; he's bringing him up there to you.  I can't get a good read on the situation, but it looks serious—_

He'd stopped talking, and she heard him grunt.

_What was that?_

_A Body Bind on a Death Eater—think it was Macnair.  Never liked him much . . ._

_Where are Ron and Hermione?  Where are the other Aurors?_

_They're still down here, cursing the hell out of Death Eaters.  Some Order members and other medi-wizards are tending to the people.  There's a lot of injury and death here, love._

_Yeah, well, as soon as they get here, I'm coming down there.  I hate this!_

_No!  Stay!  The farther away you are from these freaks the better!_

_Draco Andrew Malfoy!  I will _come_ down there when Sirius gets here with Harry!  Is that understood?_

_Clearly, but just so you know, Sirius is in disguise, an advanced Polyjuice Potion.  He'll look like Fletcher._

_Great.  _She broke the link with him and tended to the girl in her arms.  Her eyes were rolling to the back of her head, and her temperature was rising dramatically.

_Oh Merlin, Harry!  Get here quick!  She's feeling exactly what you are!_

"He's coming, Nia.  Just hold on . . . as soon as he gets here, I can heal him . . ."

_Hopefully . . _

More minutes passed, and there was still no sign.  Nia's thrashing calmed until she grew still—too still for Ginny's liking.

"No, no, Nia.  I don't think so!  C'mon!  C'mon!"

Finally "Fletcher" came up the hill with Harry in his arms.  He rushed to her side and gently laid Harry's prone body on the grass beside them.  "Fletcher" began to change, but Ginny shook her head.

"Don't do that, Sirius.  There are eyes everywhere on these grounds."  Sirius nodded, but was visibly shaken.

"Do you know what the curse was?"

"It was spoken in a foreign tongue.  I couldn't tell you if I wanted to," he said hollowly.

"We need to get this shirt off him, so I can see the wound," she muttered even as she ripped the buttons to Harry's top.

What she saw almost made her retch.  The entire left side of his body was translucent, his skin turning green, blue, and purple.  She could see his muscles swell—they were already the size of grapefruits—and sweat dripped heavily from him.  Ginny froze, having never seen a person in such a state.

"Ginny!  Can't you do something?  Hermione told me to send him to you!"

She put Nia beside Harry carefully before crawling toward him.  Her hands glowed scarlet, and she placed them directly on his wound.

_"Sooxe 0ou_."

Slowly Harry's skin went back to normal, and his breathing became regular again.  She wiped his brow gingerly, glad to see the sweat stopped coming.

"Check on Nia, please, Sirius."

The older man nodded and looked at her in awe even as he did what he was told.  "How did you—I mean isn't that—dear _Merlin!"_

Harry coughed and moaned, his hands going to his abdomen.  His eyes opened slowly, and they looked into her, unfocused.  "Where am I?"

"You're on the hill at Hogwarts."

He frowned and tried to sit up, but Ginny placed firm hands on his shoulders to stay him.  "You need rest."

"What I _need_ is to go back down there!  What about Set and Voldemort?"

"The others will take care of that, mate.  Listen to Ginny and stay here," Sirius recommended.

Harry's head turned to the sound of Sirius' voice.  His breath caught when he saw who was in his arms.  "Nia!"  He tried to get up again, but Ginny kept him in a prone position.  "How did she get hurt?  She wasn't supposed to get hurt!"

Ginny sighed and stopped trying to keep him lying down.  She compromised with him and let Harry recline against her chest.  His eyes were full of concern for the young Slytherin, and her heart broke.  "It's the link she shares with you, Harry.  She feels what you feel . . ."

He looked at her wildly.  "Well, can't we turn it off?  This can't happen every time I go to fight!"

She shrugged and wiped the sheen from his forehead.  "I don't know, Harry; Draco and I can turn ours on and off.  Maybe the link manifests itself differently with you, or it's a different type of link, but she's doing better now, right?"

Sirius shook his head.  "She's still unconscious, but she keeps muttering things.  At least she doesn't look sick."

Harry swallowed thickly.  "Who's down there?"

"When I left, Dumbledore was fighting Voldemort, and Jamilah was fighting Pettigrew.  I think he recognizes her.  Malika looked so similar to Jamilah . . ."

"What about Draco, Ron, and Hermione?"

Sirius shrugged.  "I'm sorry, Ginny.  I lost them in the fight.  There were so many curses being thrown down there.  I think Hermione stayed and helped the survivors."__

"Dear Merlin," she whispered.  She sent up a prayer for the lost souls.

"I think I hit Voldemort with a hex, but Pettigrew got me good.  I don't know what it was, but you got it out, Gin," Harry rasped.

"That's why I'm here," she said absently.

"Draco . . . watch out—uh . . ." Nia moaned.

Ginny froze and immediately went to her link.  _Draco!_

There was no reply; her panic began to rise.

_Draco!  Answer me!_

Silence.

"Oh Merlin, no!"

Sirius looked at her with concerned eyes.  "What is it, Ginny?"

She began to shake violently.  "Draco's not responding.  I have to go to him—Harry, do you think you can sit up?"

"I'm going with you—"

"Like hell you are!  You're going to sit there and make sure Nia doesn't get worse!"

Harry looked at her for a moment before nodding reluctantly.  She helped him into a sitting position, and he crawled toward Nia and Sirius.

"Stay safe, Gin," Sirius wished her.

She nodded and began to run down the hill.  Her feet were light, and her heart beat rapidly.  _Draco!_

There was still no answer, and she felt her throat tighten with the need to cry.

_You will not die on me now, Malfoy!  You _will not die on me!

She wished there was some way she could get there faster!  Precious minutes passed as she ran toward the town, and her cries grew desperate.

_"Your primary Animagus is the vulture—the griffon vulture to be exact."_

She'd never explored how to change herself into the bird, but she figured now was as good a time as any to try.  She closed her eyes and focused, putting her arms out as she ran.  At first, she didn't feel any changes and grew frustrated, but suddenly she felt her mouth grow from her face and harden.  Her eyes widened as she felt her eyelids sink back into her skull, and her eyesight grow keener.  Her line of vision grew lower and lower as her bones readjusted themselves to that of the bird, but then she was soaring, higher and higher until Hogwarts seemed as an anthill would.

_I did it!  I changed!_

Without warning, her bones started to grow again, and she feared she would change back to her human form before she even reached Hogsmeade, but that was not the case.  Her wingspan became bigger and bigger until she was sure one wing was the size of the Quidditch pitch.  Every time she flapped, there was a loud _whoosh_ that accompanied it.  She figured she was the size of Hagrid's hut.

_Well, I'll be a monkey's uncle . . _

She soared higher, for once glad of the moonless night—she didn't want to ruin the surprise.  Ginny spotted Hermione first—she was helping medi-witches and wizards with the injured.  Next she saw Ron, who performed a beautiful Bat-Bogey Hex on the Death Eater he was fighting.

_Way to go, Ron!_

There were many other Aurors and Order members fighting—Shacklebolt, Lupin, Tonks—and they were giving as good as they got.  She still couldn't find Draco and unwittingly let out a cry.

The sound was unbearable, shaking the building frames and the trees around them.  She looked down and noticed everyone stopped fighting and looked to the sky.

"Hello, Nephthys."

Though she was hundreds of feet in the air, she could hear the menacing voice as if the speaker were standing right next to her.  Ginny's eyes darted to where the cocky greeting came.  He was standing by the Three Broomsticks, away from the majority of the fighting.  On the ground at his feet lay Draco.

He was not moving.

Pettigrew grinned at her evilly.  "It seems history has a way of repeating itself, doesn't it, love?"

_History—Osiris—death._

_NO!_

This cry was louder than the one before, and many of the fighters ran for cover.  Most of the Death Eaters Disapparated.

"You stupid cowards!  Do not think I will forget this!" Pettigrew seethed to his retreating Death Eaters.

Her sadness and frustration soon became something tangible.  Ginny felt her eyes heat, and without warning a burst of energy came through them.  When the smoke cleared, she noticed Draco's body was still there, if a bit singed, but Pettigrew was nowhere to be found.

_Where is he?  Where is that bastard!_

She flew around Hogsmeade, looking for any kind of sign for Pettigrew or Voldemort.

_They're gone, Ginny . . . they've retreated._

Ginny was not pleased by that update.  She wanted them dead.

_Harry!  How is everyone?  Are they all right?_

_Dumbledore says a medi-witch is treating Ron.  Dumbledore and Jamilah are fine.  They're coming up behind you now._

Ginny craned her neck and saw them staring at her.

_And what about Draco, Harry?  Could you establish a link with him?_

_I have before.  I'll try for you, Gin._

Tense moments passed as she circled around Draco's form.

Harry cursed, and Ginny's heart shattered in a thousand pieces.  _He's not responding, Ginny.  The bloody bastard is not responding!_

Ginny broke the link and let out another agonized cry.

"Take him to the castle, Miss Weasley.  There's nothing more we can do for him here," Dumbledore said solemnly.  A single tear ran down Jamilah's cheek, and she walked away from them hurriedly.

It was then Ginny realized vultures could not cry.  As she scooped up an unresponsive Draco, she relayed a message to Harry about the outcome of the situation.

Draco was dead.

Pettigrew would pay.


	7. Seven

_Seven_

Eyes opened to a dimly lit room.  It was drafty, and the candlelight flickered against the stone walls.  There was silence—too much of it to be calming—and the sense of foreboding was oppressive.

There was also a neck in the eyes' line of vision, a neck that featured a prominent Adam's apple, yet very smooth skin.  The eyes were entranced by its milky color, and hands ached to touch the point that jumped in steady, staccato intervals.  The hands gave into the desire, and one reached up, ever so slowly, to the enchanting pulse point.  Fingertips touched the skin and marveled at its softness—much like a cloud would feel.

"Something wrong with my neck?"

Fingertips moved away from the neck as if scolded.  "Sorry."

The Adam's apple vibrated rapidly as a chuckle came forth.  The neck moved back into contact with fingertips, and they reveled in its softness again.  Lips kissed the forehead, and the eyes fluttered at the contact as the neck moved away, revealing an equally entrancing face.

"Hi," the face whispered.  Adorned on it was a soft smile, a soft smile that was hauntingly sad.

The brows over the eyes frowned.  "What's wrong?"

The Adam's apple bobbed precariously.  "How are you feeling?"

The eyes moved from the Adam's apple north and met another pair of eyes behind wire-rimmed glasses.  These eyes were green.

"Why are you in bed with me?"

The question was more curious than accusatory, and the green eyes looked away sheepishly.  "You were unconscious, and I carried you to your grandmother's room.  You weren't waking up anytime soon, and I was exhausted, so I climbed into bed.  Don't worry; I'm on top of the covers."

She lifted her own and saw she was in pajamas.  A blush crept up her cheeks, and she bit her lip.  "Did you change my clothes?"

He blushed as well, and Nia thought he was adorable as he did so.  "No.  Your grandmother changed your clothes, but left your jumper on the back of the chair and some trainers at the side of the bed."

_Whew!  I would've never been able to look him in the eye if he _did_ change my clothes!  But then again—_

"Why was I unconscious?"

His hands, so different from her own, cupped her cheek.  Unlike his neck, they weren't soft, but rough in a familiar and soothing kind of way.  "You've been out of it since last night, Nia.  It's around noon now."

She pulled away from him incredulously and jerked upright.  "Are you serious?"

He gave a sad half smile again as he leaned on his elbows.  "Yeah.  Luckily it's Saturday instead of a weekday."

She snorted.  "Yeah . . lucky . . ."

"How are you feeling?" he repeated.

"What happened that made me unconscious?"

Harry licked his lips and closed his eyes.  The foreboding she felt became more prominent as each second passed.  Nia was tempted to look into his thoughts, but she knew that would create more problems.  "Do you remember anything that happened last night, Nia?"

She racked through her memory.  _Halloween Feast . . . fire . . Harry . . Ginny . . . Draco._

She felt as if ice water had been dumped on her.  "No."

Harry's hand returned to her cheek as he kissed her forehead.  "I'm sorry, Nia . . ." he whispered against her skin.

"Why are you sorry?  There's nothin' to be sorry for."

"Nia—"

"_No._"

"Nia, don't be this way."

She pulled away from him and sat up, ignoring his command.  Whatever he thought happened wasn't true, and she was going to give Draco a rather _large_ piece of her mind when she saw him.  "Where is he?"

She turned her back to him and put on her shoes.  Nia could feel those eyes burn her back, and she shivered.

"At the Order's Headquarters."

Nia frowned and stood, removing her sweater from the back of a chair and pulling it over her head.  "Why's he there?  Just because it's the weekend doesn't mean he can go home."

Nia heard him sigh.  She didn't turn to face him as he walked behind her.  His palms cupped her shoulders and squeezed.

"He's gone, Nia."

Those words were hauntingly familiar to her, except the pronoun was "she" the first time.  Memories of her mother's death danced behind her eyes, but she shoved them away.  She refused to believe history repeated itself.

Nia shook her head quickly and laughed.  "I _know_ he's gone, silly!  You just said he was at the Order's Headquarters!"

His hands moved so he was fully hugging her.  "No, Nia.  He's dead."

Her body temperature began to rise, and a golden haze overcame her body.  She shoved out of his arms and whirled to face him, pointing an accusing finger at him.  "You're a filthy liar, Harry Potter.  This is a low prank, even for a Slytherin."

He drew a ragged breath and ran his hand through his messy hair.  "I wouldn't lie to you, Nia, not about this.  You know I'm not lying, either."

She remembered the curse—an eerily purplish-green light that hit Draco square in the chest where his heart was.  Voldemort cast the curse, and for some reason, Pettigrew was highly put out at the wizard for doing so.  She tried to warn him, but Voldemort was too quick, and her silence was all for naught.  Nia remembered Draco asking her throughout that day what was wrong with her, for her stomach had been queasy from morning.  Nia had dreamed of the scenario the night before, but she didn't say anything, thinking, if she didn't voice it, her dream wouldn't come true.

As it had when she told the dream of her mother dying five years before.

"No."

"Nia," Harry breathed and stepped forward.

She backed away from him, the golden haze dissipating.  "He's not dead, Harry.  He can't be dead.  I didn't say anything!  I didn't say anything!  He's not dead!"

She was shaking now, and her eyes were wide.  Harry took another step forward, and she took one away from him.

"Nia—"

"Where's Ginny?"

Harry stopped walking and looked at her sympathetically.  "She's at Headquarters, too, comforting his mother."

She narrowed her eyes.  "And they left me here, at Hogwarts?"

Harry nodded slowly, his answer hesitant.  "Yes."

She felt her ire rise again, and she growled.  "They left me _here,_ at _Hogwarts,_ while _she gets to be there with him?!_"

He began to walk, and she flailed her arms.  The space in front of them shimmered briefly, and Harry's eyes widened.  He continued to walk to her.  She backed away, but he barely took three steps before he was forcibly stopped.

"An invisible wall," he muttered.

"Don't come near me.  Don't you _dare_ come near me!"

He looked at her helplessly.  "You shouldn't do this, Nia.  You shouldn't put walls around you like that—literal or no.  Believe me, I know.  You're only going to feel more miserable.  Don't push away people.  Trust me on this . . ."

She looked at him and saw the sincerity in his eyes.  He knew from experience; the brief "death" of his godfather hit him hard.  But she remembered something he said during the summer, after their first run-in with Set.

_"I'm even willing to bet you brought Sirius back from behind the veil."_

Could it be possible?  Nia sincerely hoped so.  If she brought back Harry's godfather, who was to say she couldn't bring back Draco?  She saw the attack, saw his collapse, but she didn't _feel_ Draco dead.  Her heart refused to believe he was gone, and she would do everything in her power to bring him back.

She waved her hand in front of her, and the space shimmered again.  He took a hesitant step.  "Nia?"

"Did you mean it when you said I brought Sirius back from the dead?"

The color drained from his face, and he let out a sigh.  "Nia—"

"Did you mean it?"

He shook his head.  "I don't want to give you false hope—"

"_Harry!  _How would this be false hope?  If I did it for _Sirius,_ who's to say I can't do it for Draco?"

"But as you said, you didn't know he'd died.  How could you have brought him back if you weren't even aware of his death in the first place?"

He had a point, but she wouldn't let that deter her from her new mission.  "How could I have done a lot of the things I do—_we_ do, for that matter?  We ain't normal, Harry, not even by the wizarding world's standards.  All I know is that I can potentially help Draco as I did your godfather, and I intend to do it—with or without your help."  She started to walk past him, and he grasped her arm.  "Let go of me," she said, dangerously low.

"You're not doing anything without me.  Ginny lost Draco; I'll be damned if I lose you."

Despite the grief she felt, Nia couldn't help but be warmed by Harry's declaration.  She chanced a glance at him, and his eyes were full of that determination which got him into and out of many dangerous situations.  She didn't want to think of the implications of that statement just now.

She licked her lips.  "Fine.  Just don't stop me."  Nia jerked her arm from him and grabbed her robes.

"I'm going to stop by Gryffindor to change.  I'll meet you in the dungeons."

Nia nodded absently and walked out of the room, not bothering to wait for him to put on the rest of his clothes.  Her grandmother's room was in the same tower as Dumbledore's, but there was a separate entrance to Jamilah's room, which meant once Nia left it, she would end up on the seventh floor instead of the second.  She went down the steps to the seventh floor and walked quickly to the main stairs.  As she approached them, the landings began to change.  After the movements stopped, she realized she would only be able to get as far as the sixth landing.

"You've _got_ to be kidding me," she muttered as she took the stairs.  She was becoming increasingly frustrated and angry—angry at Harry for telling her Draco was dead, angry at Ginny for being with him, angry at her grandmother for leaving her at Hogwarts when she should be with her best friend—angry at herself for not doing enough to help him.  She reached the sixth floor in a huff, her frustration and anger making room for fear.  Nia was unfamiliar with this corridor, and she was alone.  At the end of it, green light shone from a crack.  Her fear melted into curiosity, and she went towards it, grasping her wand just in case.

Nia opened the door hesitantly and gasped at what greeted her.  The room was huge.  There was a pyramid, hieroglyphics, and a large mural on the opposite wall.  Her eyes darted back and forth throughout the room, disbelieving the sight they beheld.  There was a table below the mural, and she walked to it.  On the table were vials with labels: hawthorn, aloe vera, phoenix tears, holy basil, deadly nightshade, Isis' tears, and cinnamon.  There was also a flask of reddish liquid labeled "ambrosia."  The vials were clear, so she could see the contents inside.  The only empty one was the "Isis' tears" vial.

Nia frowned.  _Why would all the vials but that one be full?  Better question—what am I supposed to do with this stuff in the first place?!_

She searched the table for instructions but found none.  Her frustration grew again, and she slammed her fists onto the table, causing the vials to clink in protest.

"Why is this happening?" she croaked, falling onto her knees.  There was no answer, not that she was expecting one.  Never had she felt more alone than she did then.  Harry probably didn't know where she was, and everyone else must have been at the Order's Headquarters.  She was not dumb, she knew the castle sent her to this room on purpose, but she couldn't figure out why.

Nia looked back to the door she came through, only to see it didn't exist anymore.  She punched the floor again, and the tears finally began to fall.  "Some Isis I turned out to be . . . I couldn't even save Draco from Voldemort!" she whimpered.

"You're being too hard on yourself, child.  I'm very proud of you, my daughter."

She gasped and shuffled away from the table.  "Who's there?!"

The deep, honeyed voice chuckled.  "Look at the mural, my daughter."

She backed up more, so the entire mural was in her line of vision.  Her mouth dropped open at the sight.  It was _them, _but not_ **them**_.

"Dear God above," Nia murmured.

"Spitting image, I daresay, Aset," the green drawing stated.

"That's my middle name," Nia said absently.

"I know, my daughter.  You're my descendant, after all, or did you not know that?"

Nia frowned.  "Just because I have your middle name doesn't mean I'm your descendant!  There are plenty of people who've named their children after you!"

"Yes, but the blood flowing through your veins is the same that flowed in mine.  You are more than just a reincarnate, child; you are my heir."

Nia snorted.  "Yeah, right."

Aset grinned.  "Perhaps you should talk to your 'Grandpa Albus' for more information about that."

Nia licked her lips and wiped the tears from her eyes.  "You know my Grandpa Albus?"

"Oh yes, quite well, actually.  He's the one who installed the room, along with your 'Grandma Asenath,'" Aset revealed.

Nia stood and clasped her hands over her stomach.  "Why is the room here?  Why am _I_ here?  I have to go!  I have to see if I can save Draco—"

"Set and Thanatos got him, didn't they?"

The green drawing looked at the woman beside him sympathetically.  "Nebt-het, you know it has to happen this way."

"But, Asar, look at the child!  I can only imagine how Ginny must be feeling right now—"

"You know Ginny?" Nia interrupted.

The one called Nebt-het smiled, and Nia was strangely comforted by it.  "Yes, child.  She visited us about a year ago, in fact, very wrapped up in Draco—"

"As she should be!" the green god exclaimed.

The one she deduced to be Apedemak rolled his eyes, and she chuckled.  "Harry would've done the same thing," Nia told him.

Apedemak winked.  "Couldn't have picked him better myself.  He'll kick Thanatos' ass for me once and for all."

Her eyes clouded at the name.  "Thanatos . . . why is that name familiar?"

Aset shifted her eye.  "He helped Set dispose of Osiris in the coffin . . ."

"And he's Voldemort."

Nia bit her lip as her eyes began to pool with tears.  "He killed him.  He killed Draco . . ."

"And you have a chance to rectify that, darling.  I must warn you, however—nothing is guaranteed.  But I did it before, and I have faith you can too.  Why do you think the vials are here?"

Nia looked warily at the table.  "All of the ingredients ain't there.  The Isis' Tears vial is empty."

Aset smiled.  "So what are you waiting for, darling?  Give the vial your tears."

Her lip began to tremble, and she bit it.  "But . . ."

"There are no 'buts,' love.  Draco needs you, as you need him.  Only you can do it, love, and I have every faith you can," Asar reassured her.

Nia walked slowly, as if the table was a ticking time bomb.  In a way, it was.  She was sure she had a limited amount of time to do whatever was needed to save Draco, and Nia was afraid everything would blow up in her face.  She gingerly picked up the vial and twirled it in her hands.  What was she supposed to do with it after she cried in it?  Would it even work?

"How full does it have to be?"

"Not all that full; just enough to know there's some in there," Aset said.

Nia rolled her eyes.  "That's vague."

"Blame Thoth.  He said the same to me when I had to do it.  But I'll promise you it'll know when there's enough."

Nia sniffed, not at all confident in her abilities.  "I can't even do proper wandless magic, and here you are tryin' to get me to save somebody?"

"You're ready now, love.  And you can do wandless magic.  Haven't you noticed it's become easier for you ever since the storm you created?"

That much was true.  It seemed the magic came easily now, but then again she had been upset for the better part of the day.  She knew the stronger the emotion, the easier to feel and use the magic, but it was also harder to control.  The goal was to have it all the time and easily manipulated, not just when she was angry and frustrated.

"Child, do not despair.  You've crossed a big hurdle in your training.  It will be easier for you now," Nebt-het promised.

Nia stared at the vial and grinned a little.  "I feel real weird cryin' into a test tube.  That ain't normal, if you ask me."

The gods chuckled.  "But think of the elation you'll feel when Draco is in your arms again, love—" Asar said.

"And the joy I'll have when you smack him a good one!" Apedemak added.

Nia felt hopeful and desperate at the same time.  She hated crying and cursed herself for all the times she had during her time here.  Crying got people nowhere, she always thought, but now the gods were saying it could potentially save her friend's life—a friend she'd come to think as her own brother.

"You did it to keep me safe," she muttered.  Her head was bowed, and she positioned the tube underneath her eye.  She laughed at how ridiculous she felt, but it couldn't dampen the grief she had.  "What am I gonna do without you, Draco?"

A tear fell into the vial, and she stared at it.  Something so small in the grand scheme of things would be necessary to save his life . . . kind of how she felt herself to be.  Harry said she wasn't ready, and Draco agreed.  Ironically both of them were injured severely, but only one of them survived.

And she couldn't save either.

Another tear fell, then another, and soon she couldn't count them anymore.  Nia was unaware the vial sealed itself closed once it got enough, and that was fine with her, for she'd dropped it on the table and cried.  She cried for her mother, for Draco, for the people in Hogsmeade, Harry, Ginny, Draco's mother, Jamilah, Snape—everyone.  She cried for them.

"I'm sorry . . ."

"Why are you apologizing, love?  None of this is your fault."

Nia hiccupped and stood straight, hastily wiping the tears from her eyes.  She took a couple of calming breaths and wiped her hands on her pajama pants.

"Nia?"

She didn't respond and didn't turn to face him.  A door closed, and footsteps echoed in the room.  She figured he was in the middle of the room waiting for her to speak.

"Baby, talk to me."

His tone was plaintive, and she couldn't ignore it.  She turned and faced him, resting her hands on the table behind her.  He was in jeans and wore a long sleeved shirt with a button down top over it.  His hair was just as disheveled as it was earlier, though she knew he tried to run a comb through it.  His hands were in his front jean pockets, and his head was slightly bowed as he looked at her.  His eyes were kind and sympathetic.

It made her want to vomit.

Nia rolled her eyes and gave a self-mocking snort.  "It is my fault.  You were right—I ain't ready, and because I ain't ready, dozens of people died—including Draco."

"I didn't mean—"

"Yes.  You did.  And that's fine.  All it took was Draco's death for me to believe you."

"Don't talk that way—"

"Don't talk _what_ way?  I'm just sayin' what you've been sayin' the entire time!  I was a fool to believe I could've helped!"

"But you did help!  You sent the storm!  Ginny told us that!  You told Draco to watch out!"

"And he _watched_ Voldemort kill him!  DAMMIT!  Why, Harry?  If I were better prepared, I could've helped!  I could've fought, and saved him."  Nia couldn't look at him anymore and stared at the ceiling.  "Ginny wouldn't be mourning her boyfriend right now.  Mrs. Malfoy wouldn't be heartbroken over the loss of her son.  I wouldn't be so alone . . "

"But you aren't alone, love.  You have me . . ."

She snorted again and gave a wan smile.  "Yeah?  For how long?  You almost died yesterday, too."

She heard him walk closer, but she kept her eyes upward.  "But I didn't die, Nia.  I'm still here."

"And what about the next battle?  Or next year?  Or _tomorrow?_  It's not guaranteed, Harry!"

"It's not going to happen—"

"That's what my _mama_ said before she died!  She _promised_ me she wasn't gonna die!  But _no!_  She ain't here now!  She died because of me!  She wasn't even supposed to _have_ me!"

She dropped her face into her hands and sobbed.  Suddenly she was in his arms, and she burrowed her face into his chest.  He whispered things she couldn't comprehend, but his arms around her and his hand caressing her head comforted her.  Nia moved her hands from her face and wrapped them around his waist tightly, wanting to feel every bit of him against her.  She felt safe and secure, and she let herself enjoy the sensation.

It was silent for a stretch of time before Harry broke it.  "How did she die?"

Nia swallowed and shook her head against his chest.  "I don't rightly know . . I've been hearin' rumors about some kinda disease or somethin'.  Grandma won't tell me; neither will Daddy.  All I know is she'd come home after stayin' in the hospital for so long, and I thought that meant she was gettin' better . . she just wanted to die at home.  I can't fault her for that, can I?"

"No, you can't.  But I don't see how this has to do with you."

Nia shrugged and snuggled closer to him.  "I don't wanna talk about it right now . . . could you just hold me for a minute?"  She cursed the smallness of her voice, but she wanted to indulge herself in his nearness.

Harry chuckled and kissed the top of her head.  "I'll hold you forever if you want me to."

Her body tensed, then trembled at his words.  His tone was so soft and full of promise that she dared not look in his eyes for confirmation.

"Those words are so familiar, aren't they, Aset?"

"Yes, Apedemak, they are."

"Oh dear Ra in heaven above, make it stop!"

"Oh shush, Asar!  Your reincarnates had their moment; let ours have theirs!"

"I agree with Aset; I think it's sweet!"

"You would, Nebt-het.  You've always been a sucker for romance."

"Better than just being a sucker, isn't it, Asar?"

Nia giggled at Apedemak's barb and separated from Harry.  His arms had since slackened around her, and she noticed his jaw open unflatteringly.  She gently pulled his chin up, and he looked at her questioningly.  She grinned and nodded.

"That's—that's—"

"Yep."

"So this is the Room Ginny was talking about?"

"Right in one, my boy.  As smart as you are handsome."  Apedemak beamed.

"That's not nice, insulting the boy like that," Asar said.

"Right, and whose reincarnate is dead at the moment?"

"That was low even for you, Apedemak!" Nebt-het rebuked.

The sudden jovial mood disappeared just as quickly with that reminder, but instead of growing sad, Nia grew resolved.  "Right, and as Aset said, there's a chance it can be rectified, isn't there?"

Aset smiled warmly.  "That's right, my daughter.  The cauldron is ready."

The pyramid in the center of the room opened to reveal a table with a small alabaster cauldron.  Nia looked at Harry, and his eyes were wide with wonder.  "Wicked."

"Forget wicked.  It needs to work," she told him as she walked to the table where the vials were.  It was as if a magnet had attracted her hand to the ambrosia flask; it went straight to it without hesitation.  She poured the ambrosia in the cauldron, and a fire lit beneath it.

"What do I do next?" she asked rhetorically.  No sooner had the words left her mouth than she began going to the vials, putting them into the cauldron in some unknown order.  She was on autopilot the entire time, muttering phrases in the ancient Egyptian tongue and stirring the contents of the cauldron in intricate patterns.  Harry stood back from her, and for that she was grateful.  Nia wouldn't have been able to tell him what she was doing even if she wanted to do so.

Finally she was done preparing the cauldron, and she placed the lid over it.  "How long will we have to wait?" she asked the gods.

"Thirty minutes."

She felt panicked all over again.  "Thirty minutes!  That's too much time!  What if we're too late?"

"Have faith, my daughter.  Have faith in your abilities and in the Fates.  Do you feel Draco gone from you?"

Nia shook her head.  "No, I don't."

Aset smiled.  "Then don't worry."

She snorted and crossed her arms.  "Easier said than done."

"As are so many other things in this world, hmm?" Nebt-het said, looking pointedly between Nia and Harry.

Nia felt her cheeks heat, but she refused to look at her companion.  She felt him come behind her, and she tingled.

His lips brushed her ears.  "You look just like Aset."

"And Apedemak is a black version of you.  Asar is a green version of Draco.  Nebt-het looks exactly like Ginny . . . are you sure y'all are biologically related?"

"As we told your companions earlier, we have independent genetic makeup, as if we weren't even biologically brother and sister," Asar explained.

Nia nodded slowly.  "So it's perfectly natural to think of Draco as my brother."

Aset smiled.  "I'll bet you've been biting your tongue from saying it, haven't you?"  Nia nodded sheepishly.  "I'm sure he'd love to hear you say it, my daughter."

Nia grinned and relaxed her shoulders.  Harry's hands began to massage them, and she was grateful for the gesture.  They worked out the tight muscles, and she turned to jelly.

"You always did give the best massages, Apedemak," Nebt-het commended.

"Thank you—"

"Wait a minute!" Asar and Aset exclaimed at once.

"What in the world are you doing giving _my_ goddess a massage?" Asar continued.

"And the answer better be good," Aset added.

The other two deities grinned at each other.

"This was back when the two of you hated me, remember?"

"I still hate you, Apedemak."

The Nubian god smirked.  "No, you don't.  You like me, and it kills you that you do."

"I'd die before I ever admit that."

"Well, you did—twice."

"Enough, you two.  That happened almost six millennia ago.  It's time for you to let _go,_" Aset recommended.

Nebt-het looked at Nia kindly.  "Try to make sure it doesn't happen like this between Harry and Draco."

"Too late," Nia muttered.

"In my defense, I'm getting better . . . I don't get off a hex every time he calls me Potty."

"If you stopped answering to it, he'd stop calling you that."  Nia smirked.

His laugh was deep, and it enveloped her like a warm blanket on a chilly night.  His hands squeezed her shoulders before coming around them and drawing her to him.  Her hands touched his forearms as she tried to pry him off her.

"Lemme go!"

"Not on your life," he whispered in her ear.

She laughed and tickled his sides.  His laughter increased, and his arms relaxed, allowing her to get away.

"I'm going to get you for that, little girl," he threatened.

"Um, it's Little _One,_ not little girl!" she corrected.

"Regardless, I'm still bigger than you," he reminded her.

"And dumber!"

"Here, here!" Asar piped.

Harry scowled at Asar, and Nia clucked her tongue.  "Ain't no use gettin' mad with a paintin'!"

"Oh yeah?"

Nia placed her hands on her hips.  "Yeah!"

"Then I guess you'll have to do."

Her eyes widened as he grabbed her and began to tickle her mercilessly.  She thrashed, scratched, and clawed his hand away, but he was relentless.  Without warning, he scooped her over his shoulder and sat her on the table where the vials used to be to get a better grasp of her.  She gasped and hiccupped throughout her defense until finally she gained the upper hand, wrapping her legs around his waist and his wrists behind his back.  Giggles escaped until they finally died down at his smoldering green gaze.

Gone was the merriment, and it was replaced with something Nia dared not name.  She let go of his wrists and began to pull back when his hands wrapped themselves around her waist.  She was struck still, her eyes darting over his face and her heartbeat increasing.  Nia noted she'd run the gamut of emotions that day—sadness, joy, hope, despair—but the one she was feeling currently overshadowed them all.

She closed her eyes and bowed her head.  His stare unnerved her, making her feel as naked as the day she was born.  Besides, it was much easier to deny what she saw in his eyes when she didn't look into them.  Nia sucked in a wild breath at the feel of his hand against her cheek, and his thumb caressed it gently.  She leaned into his touch against her will and felt a feather soft sensation on her forehead.

"Harry . . ."

"Mmm," he muttered as his lips seared a path along her hairline.  His nose worried the space where her ear met her temple, and she squirmed.  Her hands grasped the forearm around her waist, and she felt his muscles bunch as he moved his hands to the small of her back, drawing him closer in between her legs.

"What are you doin', Harry?" she whispered, her breath catching as his lips kissed the sensitive spot under her lobe.

He did not answer.  Instead his lips placed small kisses along her jawbone, and Nia drowned in the sensations he was causing.  There was so much affection in each little contact with his lips she was overwhelmed.  His mouth reached the point of her chin, and he kissed it then moved higher to kiss the skin directly below her bottom lip.  She shivered in anticipation, and he pulled away from her slightly.  Nia keened at the loss.

"Cold?" he asked softly.

Her eyes remained closed, but she shook her head.  "Scared."

His hand left her cheek and trailed her nose.  "Of me?"

She still didn't open her eyes as she nodded.  "Yes."

"Love, look at me."  His voice left her no room to do otherwise, and her lids opened to reveal her golden eyes to him.  He gave her a small smile and stepped closer, so his lips and hers were a breath's space away.  She began to tremble again, and his hand grasped her chin lightly.

"Don't be afraid, love," he whispered.

His eyes closed, and he leaned forward.  Time seemed to move in slow motion.

_RIING!!!!_

They jumped apart, and Nia hopped from the table.  Her back was to him, and her heart beat wildly, partly from the loud alarm, but mostly from the feelings Harry stirred.

"What an adorable almost first kiss!" Nebt-het exclaimed.

"Saved by the bell!" Asar praised.

"Stupid cauldron!" Apedemak yelled.

"My sentiments, exactly, Apedemak," Aset said a bit despondently.

Nia blushed as she ran to the cauldron and lifted the lid gingerly.  The steam wafted from it, and the different spices and aromas tickled her nose.  It reminded her of her mother's sweet potato pie.

"There should be a vial there, love.  Fill it with the serum," Asar guided.  She did as Asar instructed, careful not to spill any of the concoction.  "'Atta girl!"

"She's not a _dog,_ Asar," Apedemak growled.

"Still sore over Aphrodite calling, 'here, kitty, kitty!' at you, aren't we?" Asar jibed.

"_What_ is this about Aphrodite now?" Aset asked warningly.

"Nothing, dear."

Nia grinned at the gods' conversation as the vial filled.  She put the stopper on it and put it in one of her robes' pocket.  The gods helped her calm down and lifted her spirits.  Without them, she would've been totally lost.  "Thank you . . for everything," she said to them.

They stopped their bickering and smiled at her.  "Nia . . Harry . . you two are a joy to behold."  Aset became serious as she continued.  "Today will mark the beginning of the battle of your lives.  It will be hard, and there will be losses.  You must be prepared for these things.  I know you two are no strangers to loss, but in those times you'll need each other more than ever.  First and foremost, you are partners.  As long as you remember that, you can weather any storm."

Harry's hand linked with Nia's, squeezing it in reassurance.  "Thank you.  We won't let you down."

Apedemak smirked.  "Of course you won't!  You have the essence of me within you, young man!"

"And you have the blood of me in you, my daughter," Aset said to Nia.  "May Ra be with you."

The murals ceased to move, and Nia knew they had fulfilled the purpose of the Room.  She stood there and gazed at the murals, half hoping they'd continue talking to her.

Harry tugged at her hand.  "C'mon, love.  Let's go save Malfoy."

She looked at the mural one last time before allowing Harry to lead her out the Room.  The door sealed into the wall as they left, and she looked at it longingly.  Harry stopped walking, and she looked at him sheepishly.  "Sorry," she apologized.

He grinned at her, and her heart began doing funny things again.  "They were cool."

"Yeah."

"Maybe we'll see them again."

"Under better circumstances . . ."

Harry rubbed his thumb briefly down her cheek.  "It will be.  C'mon.  We have a ferret to resuscitate."

She rolled her eyes and chuckled as they began walking again.  "You know, I do believe you like Draco, underneath all that bad mouthin'."

Harry snorted.  "I'd rather swim naked in a sea of nettles than to say I like Malfoy."

"I'll talk to Dumbledore and see what we can do about that," she teased.

He tugged her hand again and grinned at her.  "You just want to see me naked."

She felt her cheeks heat, but she smirked.  "And swim through a sea of nettles?  Yeah!"

"Sadist—taking pleasure in someone's pain."

"Better than being a masochist like you," she shot back.

He stuck his tongue at her, and she rolled her eyes.  For all of his sullen moments, he could be a big baby when he wanted to be.  She liked him the most then, when he dropped the worries of the world from his shoulders and decided to be himself.  That was also when he was the most dangerous.

Her mind went back to the scene they shared not even half an hour ago.  He was going to kiss her!  Nia had felt trepidation and excitement at once.  What if she did it wrong?  What if he didn't like it?  What did it all mean?  She shook her head.  They didn't kiss, and while she was relieved, she couldn't help the feeling of disappointment either.  She figured he was caught up in the moment—the Room certainly had strange effects on a body.

_So why are you still holding his hand now that you've left the Room?_

She squeaked in embarrassment and tried to yank her hand out of his grasp.  His hand refused to let go of its grip; it tightened around hers.  Nia felt herself blush _again_ and focused on going down the stairs.

"Are you ashamed of me?"

His tone was light, but she knew it was a serious question.  Nia shook her head but remained fixed on the stairs.  "No.  I thought you wouldn't want anyone to see us like this . . . we_ are_ of rival Houses and all . . . plus the age thing . . ."

He stopped walking, and she didn't have a choice but to follow suit.  He grasped her chin and stared at her.  His gaze was unsettling, much like it was earlier.  He caressed her jawbone briefly before speaking.  "First of all, everyone's at lunch now.  Second of all, I don't care about any of that stuff anymore.  It's petty and stupid, and in the grand scheme of things, it doesn't matter.  We're friends, right?"

_Yeah . . . friends . . ._ _who almost kissed each other!  _"Yes."

Harry gave her a soft smile.  "Good.  Now, can we continue?"

She bit her lip and rolled her eyes.  He was such a punk, and she couldn't hate him for it.  But if he wasn't going to talk about the almost kiss, neither was she.  Nia didn't answer him but started down the stairs again.  They took the rest of the stairs in silence, and she started slightly at the sight of Dumbledore at the bottom stair.

His eyes went to their clasped hands, and a small smile appeared.  Nia tried to remove her hand, but Harry stubbornly held onto it.  Dumbledore met eyes with her.  His were twinkling.

_Dangit__._

"Harry, Nia, Ginny has been asking for you two."

Her free hand patted the vial in her pocket, and she nodded.  "How is she, Professor?"

Dumbledore sobered a bit.  "She's been oddly calm.  Narcissa, on the other hand, had to be sedated.  It is hard to lose a child."

"Does the school know what happened?" Harry asked.

Dumbledore shook his head.  "We decided not to make an announcement just yet.  However, Snape told the Slytherin House Draco had been attacked and was being treated."

"Yeah, with last rites," Harry muttered.

This time Nia yanked her hand away and glared at Harry.  "Don't talk that way.  Professor, take me to him."

Dumbledore locked eyes with Harry briefly before doing as Nia requested.  He led the two to the dungeons where he tapped the wall with his wand in a peculiar sequence.  The blocks disappeared, and they walked inside.  There was a table in the center of it with a vase filled with flowers.

"Touch the vase," Dumbledore ordered.

_A Portkey . . ._ _wonderful . ._

All three touched the vase simultaneously, and the tugging sensation began.  They zoomed through space in a flash, where they were unceremoniously deposited in the living room of Twelve Grimmauld Place.  Her hand flew to the vial, and she breathed a sigh of relief when she felt it still in tact.  Snape helped Dumbledore rise, and Sirius helped Harry, who in turned assisted her to her feet.  Everyone's expression was grim, and the silence was oppressive.

Nia looked around the room and noticed someone missing.  "Where's Ginny?" she asked.

Sirius approached her and placed a comforting hand on her shoulder.  "She's upstairs with Draco, love.  She's been there ever since we brought him here."

Nia took a deep breath.  "And his mother?"

"In the room next door.  She's finally sleeping, the poor woman," Mrs. Weasley said with a shake of her head.

Nia gave a small smile to Sirius and went to Snape, hugging him hard.

Snape returned the affection just as intensely and kissed the top of her head.  "Merlin forbid if I say I'm glad it's him and not you," he whispered.

She understood his fear and squeezed him before releasing her hold.  "May I see him?"

Snape nodded as he smoothed her hair down.  "Come, Little One.  I'm sure he'd love to hear from you one last time."

"I would like to come as well, Professor," Harry said.  Snape regarded Harry a moment before nodding.

They went up to the room quietly yet quickly and saw Draco lain out underneath the covers.  His chest was bare, save for a bandage.  Ginny was asleep at his waist, her hand holding his lifeless one tightly.

"How long has he been dead?"

"Ever since we brought him here.  We thought he'd died when Voldemort struck him, but he was only unconscious.  He woke up briefly when we got him to the hill, but despite Ginny's efforts, Draco could not be saved."

"He looks asleep," Nia murmured.  Against her better judgment, she went to Draco's prone body and touched his cheek.  She drew back her hand as if scalded; the cold hardness of his skin reminded her he was anything but sleeping.

"Oh God . . ." she whispered.  Flashbacks of her mother came forth as she lay in the casket, appearing asleep but never to wake again.  She stepped away from the bed in a daze and stamped her foot angrily.  "GOD!"

"Little One—"

"NO!"

Someone telling her he was dead was totally different than seeing him dead.  It made it real to see him unmoving.  She felt her eyes turn red, then soften to gold, as if the magic warmed up before it struck.

_~Nia.  Calm down.  The magical buildup you have is unhealthy.  You could hurt someone.~_

Nia looked to Ginny, who had just awakened.  The redhead's hands were palm out toward her, and her eyes were red.  It was as if she was ready to ward any potential attack Nia started.

_~He's dead, Ginny!  He's gone!~_

Ginny looked at Draco and nodded sadly.  _~I know, love.  He said he did it for you.  They almost found out who you were that night.~_

Nia let out a sob.  _~So it _is_ my fault!  He died because of me!~_

Ginny shook her head.  _~He died because of Pettigrew and Voldemort.  Pettigrew blasted him with a curse that brought down his mind shields.  Draco sent a message to Voldemort, which caused him to kill Draco.  He did it to protect you.  He loved you so much.~_

"I loved him too," Nia whimpered, and fell to her knees at Draco's bedside.  Her vision returned to normal before her eyes closed.  She felt a presence next to her and realized it was Snape.  He brought her against him and rested his chin on her head.

"Arrangements have been made . . . and Mrs. Malfoy would love to meet you."

Nia did not respond.  Her hands were clasped on the bed in front of her, and her head rested on her forearms.  Snape kissed her temple and stood.

"Speaking of whom, I should check on her," Ginny said, and Nia felt the bed move as the other girl placed Draco's hand on it.

"I'll be there; I just want to sit here for a minute," Nia said hollowly.

"We'll give you some time alone.  Come, Mr. Potter," Snape said.

Nia heard the door shut behind them.  She remained in her position for a few minutes.  "You're a self-righteous punk, you know that?"

The silence that greeted her broke her heart, for it wasn't supposed to be there.

"You're supposed to say something smart to me now . . . you're not supposed to be layin' there all silent . . "  She wiped the tears that fell silently from her cheeks.  His face was flawless, and his hair was free around the pillow.  She chuckled a sob. "Leave it to you to look beautiful even in death . . . yeah, yeah, I know.  Boys ain't beautiful, but you are.  You can look like your father up the wazoo, but you ain't him, and that makes you more beautiful than any face could be."

She stared at his hand, building up the resolve to hold it.  It was so cold and stiff, and the tears came quicker.  Her forehead touched his hand as she tried to regain composure.  "You were my first friend here.  You made my life easier in the House.  You are family!  You looked out for me!"

Nia sniffled and wiped the tears from her cheeks.  "And apparently you watched out for me even as death stared you in the face.  I saw the look you gave Voldemort right before he threw the curse at you . . . you smirked.  I was so mad you did that!  I thought you thought you could take him, and I was telling you to watch out . . . and you were—for me . . . what am I gonna do without you?"

She half expected his hand to tighten around hers, like in the movies, but of course it didn't.  This wasn't the movies.  This was real life, and despite all the magic in the world, death was final even for them.

_Or was it?_

She fingered the vial in her pocket before pulling it out.  She stared at the clear liquid.  This could potentially bring him back, and though there wasn't a guarantee, hope was better than hopelessness by any stretch.  She held the tube in both of her hands and muttered a spell.  It became a syringe, and the needle glinted light.  Her hands tapped along his arm to find a vein.  She found one and slid the needle into it, pressing the serum into him.  The needle came out slowly, and she stared at it, not quite knowing what to do now that its job was complete.  The knock on the door startled her.

"Come in," she said, making the syringe disappear.

Dumbledore entered the room, his expression blank.  "Did you do it yet?"

She nodded, not exactly knowing how he knew what she did.

"You know there is no guarantee."

She nodded again.

"I'm proud to call you my great-great-granddaughter," he said, his voice full of pride.

She offered him a small smile.  "Seems a lotta my ancestors are proud of me—not that you're dead or anything."

The older man smiled and approached her, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder.  "I know what you mean, my dear.  I take it you went into the Room."

She snorted.  "I take it you already knew that."

His eyes twinkled, and he tapped his nose.  "You were bright the moment you came from the womb."

"Kickin' and screamin' as I did, I'm sure," she chuckled.

"Yes, you were.  Socked me good in my right eye when I caught you, in fact," he said, smiling at the memory.

Nia gave an incredulous frown.  "You delivered me?"

Dumbledore nodded.  "I wanted to be there for my great-great-granddaughter's birth, which was just as well, considering it was a long process and Severus fainted dead away."

"He _didn't!_"

Dumbledore raised his eyebrows and nodded.  "To this day, he denies it, but Jamilah took pictures."

Nia laughed.  "I can't wait to use that against him."

Dumbledore offered a hand, and she took it, bringing herself to her feet.  "Well, you didn't hear it from me.  Blame Jamilah."

"Of course," she said with a wink.

"Speaking of parents, Mrs. Malfoy wants to speak to you."

Nia sucked in a breath and looked at Draco.  There had been no change since she injected the serum, and she wondered how long it would be before it took effect . . . if it did.

"I'll call you and Ginny if there's any change," he promised.

Nia nodded and hugged him before leaving the room.  Snape was waiting at a door, and she assumed Mrs. Malfoy was waiting on the other side of it.  As she passed him, Snape ran a finger down her cheek and smiled.  She offered him one in return and stepped into the room.

Nia's first thought was Mrs. Malfoy was a very beautiful woman, and she suddenly felt uncomely in her presence, despite the fact the woman was more than twenty years her senior.  Nia stopped just short of the bed, wringing her hands together.  "Mrs. Malfoy?"

The older woman's eyes opened, revealing bloodshot, ice blue eyes.  She smiled softly.  "Call me Narcissa."

Nia hesitated; her Southern upbringing always told her to put a Miss or a Mister in front of the first name of an adult.  Sirius didn't count, since he rarely acted like one.  "Miss Narcissa," she settled.

Narcissa sat up in her bed and beckoned Nia to her.  Nia walked slowly to her and stopped at the side of the bed.  Narcissa pulled her into a tight hug and began to cry.  "Thank you," the older woman whispered.

Nia felt her own tears begin to fall; she'd long realized it was no use stopping them.  She'd been on a roller coaster ride of emotions throughout the day as it was.  "For what?  I haven't done anything . . ."

_Except get your son killed._

"You saved him from Darkness.  I cannot thank you enough."

"No, I didn't—"

Narcissa pulled away and wiped the tears from Nia's cheeks in a maternal fashion.  "Yes, you did.  You and Ginny, I can't thank you two enough.  You saved my son.  He wrote me letters about you, love.  Nothing but wonderful things to say, and now I see why."

"He was like a brother to me," Nia admitted.

Narcissa nodded as the tears fell unchecked.  "I know.  He called you Little One.  He rarely uses nicknames.  When he did it with you, I knew . . . I knew you were special.  And you are."

Nia couldn't take the accolades.  When Draco didn't respond to the serum, her hopes had fallen.  Admittedly she didn't know how long it would take for the serum to work, but to know there was a possibility Draco would never call her Little One again made her grief strong. She cried harder.  "I miss him, Miss Narcissa."

Narcissa didn't respond, but drew the crying girl closer to her, where they both shed tears for their fallen Dragon.


	8. Eight

_Eight_

Hands grasped her shoulders and began to knead the kinks out of them.  She didn't know who was giving her the massage, nor lifted her head from her hands, but she purred in delight nonetheless.  The past forty-eight hours had been a trial, wearing out her energy and resolve.

She lost a student two days ago—more than that, she lost a child.  She'd come to think of Draco as one of her own, and to know one of her "babies" died in her care was more than she could take.

"My baby's gone," she whispered to no one in particular.

The hands on her shoulders stilled.  Lips touched her cheek in an effort to comfort, and Jamilah turned to hug her comforter.  Those hands rubbed along her back, trying to give any solace they could.

"I watched Voldemort shoot that curse . . . it was the most awful thing I'd ever seen!" Jamilah cried.

"Shhh, love."

Jamilah pulled away and wiped her tears.  "That could've been _Nia__!_  My GOD!  What would I have done if Malika's baby was killed?  My grandbaby!  If I'm this torn over Draco, I couldn't—"

She was gathered close again, and she cried more.  Jamilah didn't want to think about the "what ifs."  She thanked God and Merlin and whoever else she needed to thank for keeping Nia safe.  She had wished all of them came back alive, but it wasn't to be.  Draco didn't deserve the fate he met, and if she ever saw Pettigrew on the street, she'd kill him with her bare hands.

"We'll work through this together, love.  You have Dumbledore . . . Snape . . me . . "

The "me" was said with such tenderness, and she closed her eyes.  She never thought that he of _all_ people would be helping her through the pain she felt.  They'd grown closer over the course of the year, and admittedly it threw her for a loop.

"I'll get you some water, okay?"

Jamilah nodded, and he separated from her and exhaled a breath.  Too much was happening too fast.  Grandpa Albus was upstairs making sure Narcissa, Ginny, and Nia remained safe and, quite frankly, sane.  Snape was back at the school to help the students deal with what happened on Halloween night.  Remus was helping Shacklebolt and Tonks go over magical forensics, and Mrs. Weasley went back to the Burrow to fill in Bill, who was on assignment in Egypt for the Order.  It was far too soon to be mourning the death of Draco.  Hell, people were supposed to be weepin' and wailin' over _her_ a good eighty years before even thinking about Draco's death.

But once again, she lost a child.

Jamilah told Dumbledore from the beginning she was too old for this, and with this death, she swallowed the urge to yell, "I told you so!"  Intellectually she knew there was nothing she could've done—Draco was fighting with Pettigrew, and Voldemort caught him with a surprise attack.  She was too far away to do anything about it and fought hard to control the rage she felt.  Rage was a definite hindrance in fighting, and becoming reckless would have been the worst thing she could've done, especially then.

"If only there was _some_ way to warn him!  I could've stopped Voldemort . . saved his life . . ."

The glass appeared before her on the placemat, and she grasped it, rubbing her thumb against it idly.

"He was warned . . . Nia muttered out loud; she told him to watch out."

Jamilah continued to stare at the glass.  "This was _not_ supposed to happen!  This was why the Hogsmeade trips were cancelled in the first place!  _How_ were those children even _there_ for one of them to get _killed!?_  Why wasn't I enough to prevent it from happening?"

An arm came behind her, and another held her chin.  He turned her face to meet his.

"Look at me, love."  Jamilah sighed and complied with his request.  "You are a _wonderful_ professor—competent, lively, compassionate, demanding.  They couldn't have asked for a better professor if they built one themselves.  The devotion you have to those kids is commendable, and all of them are better for having you as a professor.  I've watched you train them, and I tell you, had they been under anyone else's tutelage, _all _of them would be dead—including Harry.  Don't you dare beat yourself up over this; I won't let you."

Jamilah smiled in spite of herself.  "That sounds familiar, that last line."

He smiled, distinguished crow's feet appearing at his eyes.  "You wrote that to me in your letters . . . they helped me so much during that period in my life."

Jamilah looked at the glass.  "And now you're here to return the favor?"

"It's karma, love—what goes around comes around."

She snorted.  "When will Set and Voldemort ever get their comeuppance, hmm?  Why do little boys and little girls have to die because of them?  Why did my _daughter!  Draco!_  Why do they want my grandchild?"

Jamilah started sobbing again, and she was pulled into an embrace.  She held onto him tightly, her tears wetting the crook of his neck.  He whispered words of reassurance as she cried.

"I was afraid for you during the battle . . . I saw the look Voldemort and Pettigrew gave you.  They recognized you, and I think Draco realized it.  He diverted their attention away from you, and soon afterwards he fell.  I don't think you realize how close you were to being—"

"But I'm not," Jamilah whispered.

"Thank the gods."

"But Draco is!"

"He knew what he was doing.  His death will not be in vain.  He saved many lives tonight—two of whom being you and Nia.  I haven't been able to talk to her yet, but I will."

Jamilah chuckled.  "I haven't been able to talk with her either.  I haven't even seen her since then."

"Harry's taking good care of her."

She grinned.  "He should.  He loves that gal, just as Severus loved Malika."  The arms tensed around her, and she cursed herself.  "Aw Lawd, I'm sorr—"

"You're right, Jamilah," he whispered as he kissed her forehead.  "He loved her very much.  Too bad it took me almost twenty years to square with that."

"But, Sirius—"

"I could never compete with him; she always only saw me as a friend, even when we were dating.  And if I'm completely honest with myself, that was all she ever was to me."

"No, it's not!  I know how in love you were with my daughter . . ."

_And yet you make me feel like a little schoolgirl!_

"Then why does it feel so right when I hold you in my arms, love?"

_Oh _hell!_  I'm too old for this . . ._

"Sirius Black, you stop this nonsense right now!" Jamilah admonished as she stood.  She walked hurriedly out of the kitchen and went to the drawing room.  She couldn't take this right now.  Her mama used to say, "There's a sliver lining around every cloud," but _this_ could _not_ be _her_ silver lining.  The man was twenty years her junior!  He was in love with her _daughter!_  She was old enough to be his _mother!_

_His mother!  Good God, the woman was a horror and a half.  Thank the good Lord I finally found a spell that would shut her up!  Damn near drove me crazy . . . just like her son!_

"Oh hell," she muttered.

It had started innocently enough.  Malika couldn't contact him because she was supposed to be in hiding, so she asked her mother to do it.  What started as a favor for her daughter soon became a favor for _herself_.  She liked his letters, especially since she'd been living alone for the better part of ten years.  She found Sirius to be witty, charming, and very smart, though a bit of a hothead.  She'd heard the fondness with which Malika spoke of the young man, and the letters proved her daughter wasn't without merit.  Of course Jamilah had her own qualms about the relationship, the main being Malika's staying in Britain.  Jamilah knew it wouldn't do well for them to come back to South Carolina; interracial couples didn't go over too well with the folks in her town, and compound that with both of them having magic—it was a sure way to create some trouble.

"Well, he always _was_ a troublemaker!" she smirked to herself.  She sat down on the couch and put her face in her hands.  It was clear he spent entirely _too_ long of a time celibate, and he needed a woman fast.

_Kind of hard to get any when you're on the run for a murder you didn't commit._

Even as the thought crossed her mind, she immediately threw it out.  That wasn't fair to Sirius, nor to herself, if she were honest.  "What's the world comin' to?  I can't be in lo—"

She refused to say it.  Saying it would make it real, and one couldn't take back something said.  But her mind would go back to the late night talks and the help he'd been giving her during the training, and it was hard not to feel the way she did about him.  No one knew how close they'd got—not even Dumbledore, and that was a feat in and of itself.  Here she was trying to get her granddaughter to confront her feelings for Harry, and she couldn't do the same for his godfather.

"Aw Lawd, what's happenin' to me?" she moaned.

"Magic."

Her head snapped up to see him leaning nonchalantly against the wall.  Jamilah rolled her eyes and looked at her hands.  This boy would be the death of her one day.  "Maybe you should go find Harry.  Although he pretends not to like Draco, he can't help but be impacted by his death."

"He's comforting Nia at the moment, I'm sure.  Besides, I'm looking after you right now."

She sucked her teeth.  "Chile, please!  I'm a grown woman, twenty years older than you, and have lived by myself for a number of years.  I can deal quite well."

"That doesn't mean you should."

_Damn him for choosin' now to be logical!_

"This is ridiculous."

"Why?  Because I want to help you?  Comfort you?  Love you?"

She couldn't breathe.  Her lungs flat-out refused to draw in air.  He'd succeeded in taking her breath away, something that hadn't happened since she met Frank.

_Lawd__ . . . I must have an affinity for men _not_ my age!_

Franklin Roberts was twelve years her senior, a World War II vet whom she met at a church function when she was sixteen.  At first it was strictly platonic, but three years later they were married; three years after that, Malika was born.

_Malika__ . . _

"I am not my daughter."

"No, you are not," he conceded.

"I will not be a substitute for her," she said firmly.

"No, you won't be."

Jamilah chuckled and shook her head.  "I'm too old for this!"

"You can never be too old for love," Sirius said.  He pushed off the wall and walked slowly towards her.  She diverted her eyes to her hands again, for his gaze was too penetrating.  He sat down beside her and took one of her hands in his.  His thumb traced the veins that appeared on the back of her hand before he kissed it.

Jamilah swallowed hard.  "Whatcha doin' wit' my hand?"

"Admiring the hand that wrote those letters to me," he whispered.

Jamilah snorted.  "I'm right-handed, you fool!"

He grinned at her and winked.  "This hand had to help, right?"

She tried to remove it from his grip, but he wouldn't allow it.  "Gimme my hand back," she demanded.

Sirius let go of it and grinned.  "I guess I should; I never asked for it properly.  Who would I see to accomplish that?  Dumbledore?"

He took her breath away again, and this time her heart thudded in her chest.  "Are you _insane?_"

He grinned at her hand as he lifted it again.  "Maybe . . . maybe I am.  But it took the death of James, Lily, and now Draco to realize people need to grab life by the horns.  Tomorrow is not guaranteed; you never know who won't be around the next day, and you should do everything in your power to let them know how much they mean to you."

"And what does this have to do with me?"

"I love you, Jamilah.  I've been in love with you for years."

She had a headache.  God and everyone else were playing a very mean joke on her at the moment, and she did not appreciate it.  She met her love forty-one years ago—Sirius wasn't even born yet!—and now Fate was trying to tell her she was to find it again in the man her _daughter_ dated?  No, Jamilah did not appreciate this at _all_.

"There is no possible way in the world you could feel that way for me.  A young man like yourself needs to find a young _woman_ to share his life with."

"Why do you think I started ending my letters with 'Love, Sirius'?"

Jamilah often wondered that, but didn't allow herself to dwell on it.  She chalked it up to being starved for human contact, and she was glad she could offer it.  "I don't know," she said lamely.

"Remember I told you I was going to marry a Roberts woman?" he asked.

"I wrote you back and said Malika was already married to Snape, and expecting Nia no less," she reminded him.

"Yes, and what did I say?"

She was blushing.  She hadn't blushed since she was in her twenties.  "You said it didn't matter."

He held her chin and directed her face to his.  "It didn't.  I loved you.  Still do, in fact."

Jamilah frowned.  "Then why do you continuously bait Snape over Malika and the relationship you two had?"

Sirius laughed.  "What better way to stick it to Snape than to remind him of the time when he lost to me?  Malika is my ace, always has been."

Jamilah glared at Sirius.  "I don't appreciate you using _my_ baby as a pawn in your little juvenile game!"

"I'm sorry, love; I'll stop.  Besides, I've got you."

She removed her chin from his fingers and sucked her teeth.  "You ain't 'got' anything."

He shrugged.  "Fine.  Then let me put it this way—you have me."

She looked at him skeptically.  "Did you use this line on my daughter?"

He grinned and shook his head.  "No, I wanted to, though.  But for some reason, I felt it wasn't the right time to say it."

"And then you were in Azkaban," she murmured.

"And you helped me through it.  During my time there, I had a lot of time to think, and it was there I realized why it never worked between Malika and me.  She was in love with Snape, whether I liked it or not.  And I, I was to love you.  Of course I treated it as a crush, and clearly I couldn't tell you.  I was afraid you would stop writing the letters to me . . . that fear, along with my desire to kill Pettigrew, kept me from losing my mind in that hellhole."

"It could never work."

Sirius laughed heartily at the claim.  "You look younger than I do, my dear, and don't act like you don't notice Shacklebolt making eyes at you from time to time."

She hadn't noticed, but she couldn't help but feel flattered.  "He's a very attractive man. . . makes me wanna rub Vaseline all over that bald head o' his!"

"I'll pretend I didn't hear that," he scowled.

"Oh?  Well, let me say it in your ear, so you can hear me!" she teased as she came closer.  Her lips never reached his ear, however; they met his lips instead.  They were much thinner than Franklin's, and not as soft, but the kiss was very nice.

Too nice.

She sucked in a breath and pushed him away from her.  "You shouldn't've done that."

His eyes were drawn to her lips as she licked the taste of him from them.  "How do I taste?"

"You are _impossible!_"

Sirius smiled softly and cupped her cheek.  "And you are beautiful.  Your mother named you correctly."

Her mind was reeling.  Never in a million years did she think this would happen to her.  Some people couldn't find love _once,_ let alone _twice,_ and this young man was offering it to her on a silver platter.  "I'm fifty-seven years old," she whispered.

He shrugged.  "I'm thirty-seven.  So what?"

She shook her head, and a tear fell down her cheek.  "I can't.  You deserve so much more than an old hag like me."

He snorted.  "The only old hag in this house is my mother, whom you finally silenced with that brilliant mind of yours."

She chuckled.  "Just doin' the world a favor."

He didn't respond.  His eyes darted all along her face; she never felt more exposed in her life.  "It was she who was the substitute."

Jamilah frowned.  "Excuse me?"

"Earlier, when you talked about being a substitute . . . if anything, Malika was a substitute for you."

She was at a loss.  How did one respond to a statement like that?  On the one hand, she wanted to lambaste him for thinking her daughter wasn't good enough for him, but on the other hand, the reason _why_ her daughter wasn't good enough was because her daughter wasn't _her_.  It was a difficult thing to negotiate, so she didn't even try.

"_Ookay__!_" she said finally as she shook her head.  "You know what, Imma wake up from all of this and realize it was just a really _interesting_ dream.  I'll be back at Hogwarts, yellin' at Ginny and Draco to let go of each other, and, and this conversation never happened."

Her voice trailed off as she finished her statement, and her bottom lip began to tremble.  She was back at square one again—mourning the loss of Draco.  He'd been such a Godsend to Nia, and for that she was indebted to him.  Then she got to know him—smart mouth and all—and loved him.  He was one of the most misunderstood people at that school, and, to Jamilah, that was a damn shame.  Underneath all that arrogance and pureblood talk was just a boy who wanted to be loved on his own terms.

_He'll get a whole lot of it now!  _It was a bitter thought, and she knew it.  If she learned anything over her almost sixty year existence, it was that people loved you a whole lot more once you were dead.  This boy was entirely too young and too full of promise to be gone now.  She was afraid how this would affect the girls especially.  When Malika died, Jamilah was hard pressed to squeeze two consecutive words from Nia.

"She'll be fine," Sirius said, interrupting her thoughts.  "Harry's there with her.  He'll help her through this."

"You mean the same Harry who damn near chewed everyone's head off at your death?"

Sirius shrugged and grinned.  "He doesn't like Draco as much."

"That's true, but isn't Halloween the anniversary of his parents' death?"

He heaved a sigh and glanced at her.  "Maybe I _should_ talk to him," he murmured.  Jamilah nodded.  "Do you know if Nia ever told him about their death?"

She shook her head.  "And I'd hardly think now would be the time to do it.  She's only fourteen years old, Sirius.  Death is far too familiar to her."

"She and Harry . . Draco's a hero."

Jamilah laughed.  "He'd hate being considered as such."

"Never thought I'd say this, but . . . I'm proud to call him my cousin—got the good Black genes in him."

"Thank the good Lord for that," she said wryly.

"Yes.  We have a lot to be thankful for, love," he said softly.

"Hmmm . ."  She was still hesitant.  Even if she wanted to pursue something with Sirius, it would have to be put on hold now.  They had to regroup, come up with different strategies since Draco was dead.  None of the reincarnates should ever be that vulnerable again—especially Nia.  Jamilah's focus would be on keeping them safe and giving them every advantage they could get.  Her love life would have to wait—even if it took another twenty years.

_Ugh!  I'll be seventy-seven then, God willin'!_

"Tell you what," he said, holding her hand again.  "I won't speak of this—you and me—again until we get regrouped.  We'll go back to being colleagues and nothing more.  Once our operation is up and running again, I'll pursue you—flowers, candy, wine and dine—the whole nine.  What do you say?"

She knew what she _should _say, but instead her mouth said, "Okay."

He gave her a smile that melted her heart as he kissed the back of her hand.  "I'll be anxiously waiting until then, Mrs. Roberts."

She closed her eyes and bit her lip; letting his words wash over her.  _Lord help me, so will I . . ._

~~~~~~

Blurry vision greeted him as he opened his eyes.  It was a bright day, and he felt strangely at peace.  A hand was rubbing his cheek, and he looked to the owner of it.  Her hair was lighter than he remembered, but it was still red and beautiful—just as she was.

"Ginny," he muttered, then pulled her to him, kissing her lips hard.  Oddly, however, she was pushing against him, and in his shock, he let her go.  There was giggling coming from his right, and he followed the sound, seeing her covering her mouth as she laughed.

"What's so funny, Nia?" he asked, a bit disgruntled.

She tilted her chin to the other woman.  "I just think it's funny you kissed your arch-nemesis' mother."

_Huh?  _He sat up quickly and looked at "Ginny" in horror.  The hair was red, yes, but the eyes were not the warm brown he loved.  Instead they were green.

Just as Harry Potter's were.

"Lord have mercy," he muttered in disbelief.

"Nia" smirked.  "I see my daughter's rubbed off on you."

His head snapped to the other woman, who, by all accounts, _was_ his Nia, except her hair was coarser and she had acne marks along her cheeks.  Ironically, those marks only served to enhance her beauty, instead of detract from it.  _This is _not_ right!  Where the hell am I?!_

"Actually, you're in the Elysian Fields."

"Isn't that Greek mythology?" he asked absently, unaware she'd answered a thought inside his head.

"Nia" and "Ginny" looked at each other, clearly impressed.  "Very good, Draco.  You've obviously been studying.  Honestly, this is a part of your underworld.  Paradise for the good souls sent to you; the virtuous come here.  Oddly enough, not talked about in Egyptian lore."

He frowned and shook his head.  "Why am I _here?_  And why are you _here_ with me?"

"If you'd like us to leave, we can certainly oblige you," "Ginny" said as she stood.

He was overwhelmed, realization finally settling over him.  They'd all but said who they were, and he'd figured it out long before then, but he refused to give voice to his thought.  "You're dead," he whispered.

"Right.  And so are you.  Funny how things happen like that," "Nia" said.

"Bloody hell," he muttered.

"Nope, this is 'heaven' as you see it.  If you want hell, you should've not saved my daughter and the rest of the wizarding world.  In fact, you shouldn't've been Draco Malfoy as he was, and instead turned into Lucius Malfoy, Jr.  The sick bastard," "Nia" seethed.

He knew there was no use in beating around the bush anymore.  "Mrs. Potter, Mrs. Roberts—"

"Ew!"

"_No!_"

Draco sat back in alarm.  "I'm sorry!  What did I do?"

"Mrs. Potter was my mother-in-law—"

"And Mrs. Roberts is my mama.  We won't be goin' there.  You call her Aunt Lily and call me Mama Malika.  We're your guides for now."

It was clear he was dead, or in a hallucinogenic dream, for this was insane.  But then again, he couldn't be _dead . . . _could he?

"I want to see Ginny and Nia . . . and my mummy," he said in a small voice.

Lily and Malika looked at him sympathetically.  "You can't see them the way you want, Draco.  You died in battle," Lily said.

"Yes . . Voldemort killed you . . ." Malika added.

_So I _am_ dead . . . lovely._

"Can I become 'undead' then?  I have things to do—unfinished business, if you will," he said as he stood.  The two women stood with him and shook their heads.

"Honey, I've been dead for sixteen years, and Malika's been dead for five.  Good luck in getting back to the land of the living, for we sure haven't had any."

"Besides, you won't even miss them," Malika promised.

Draco looked at her as if she were crazy.  How could he _not_ miss them?  They were his life!  He already missed having Ginny in his arms—why else would he embarrass himself by kissing Potty's mother?  _Blech__ . . . regardless if she's gorgeous . . ._

"Thank you, Draco, that's very sweet of you," Lily said with a flutter of her eyelashes.

Draco looked at them warily and sighed.  "You can read my thoughts, can't you?"

They nodded their heads.  "Only us, though, because we're your guides," Malika revealed.

"Speaking of guides, why do I need one?  Clearly I'm not going anywhere for a while.  Shouldn't I just bask in the Fields?  And if I'm Osiris' reincarnate, why am I not ruling anything?"

"Because you're only his reincarnate, not Osiris himself.  He's actually here, but he had unfinished business, and you are to finish it."

He snorted.  "Kind of hard to do that while I'm dead."

"Miracles happen everyday, honey," Malika said with a wink.

Draco looked at her askance.  This was unreal.  Here he was, dead in the Elysian Fields, and his best friend's mother and enemy's mother were his guides.  He didn't understand it at all.  "You do realize I don't like your son, right?" he asked Lily.

The redhead rolled her eyes.  "Right, and you don't love Ginny Weasley."  Draco opened his mouth to defend himself, but she held up a hand to stay his words.  "You like my son, Draco.  That's why you fight him so.  You don't _want_ to like him, especially after all that's happened between you two, but you can't fight fate.  It's time to bury the hatchet and move on.  Nursing this grudge will only make Voldemort and Set's job easier."

"Besides, my daughter loves Harry, and he'll be around much more after this all blows over."

He looked at them in confusion.  "But I'm dead _now_."

Malika snapped her fingers as if she just remembered.  "That's right!  Whoops!  Silly me . . ."

Draco could see where Nia got her sarcasm from; it was refreshing to have something familiar with him in this unknown, yet beautiful paradise.

"Why would anyone want to leave this?" he murmured.  It was indeed beautiful.  The grass was terribly green, and there were trees and flowers of exotic magnificence.  Behind him there was a waterfall, which reminded him of Victoria Falls where his father took him as a young child.  Right at that moment, he wished for nothing more than to swim in the lake, reveling in this worry-free world.

"Like you said, you have unfinished business," Lily reminded him.

"Eh, let Potty handle it—he loves to play hero anyway," he muttered.

"A-_hem._"

He blushed then.  It didn't bode well to call his guide's son out of his name, no matter how he felt about him.  "_Potter,_ then."

"Right, and remember, he didn't ask to be in this role, anymore than the rest of you.  It was thrust upon him," Malika said.

"I was happy in my sullen, bratty mood," Draco said unconvincingly.

"The rest of the world wasn't.  Osiris couldn't contact you until you'd got over that.  I understand your father was your hero; it's understandable and even logical, but Lucius was a cancer to you."

"I do believe I've been cured of that," he said dryly.

"Yes, but you feel betrayed by him; that means you still care for him in spite of the ills he's done," Malika revealed.

"Do not."

Lily looked at him kindly.  "It's all right, Draco."  She regarded him a moment, putting a hand on his cheek.  Her hand was cool against his skin, yet comforting, maternal even.  That familiarity permeated through him, and he closed his eyes.  "You are like my son in many ways—growing up without a father.  You created fantasies about Lucius, always making excuses for things he did that bothered you as you grew up—the curses thrown, the cold shoulder, the treatment of your mother.  As you grew older, especially as you went to Hogwarts and saw and heard other students talk about their fathers, you began to feel an ache.  Severus helped you with that, stepping into that paternal role you always wanted and needed, yet had to create for yourself in your father."

Draco opened his eyes and looked to Malika.  There was a soft smile on her features at the mention of Snape.  "Nia loves him."

Malika nodded.  "I know, even despite the truth coming out.  I knew their love was strong enough to overcome that.  I meant what I said—Sev is her father in every way that counts."

He looked at them curiously.  It was common knowledge how Lily Potter died, but how did Malika?

"A curse," she replied, reading his curious look on his face.  "When I became pregnant, a curse sealed itself upon me."

"What kind of curse?"

Malika sighed and sat down, picking a flower and twirling it in her hands.  "It was supposed to fill darkness in the babe I'd conceived and make it a perfect heir for the Dark Lord; however, it was also supposed to kill me, right after I had Nia."

Draco frowned.  "But it didn't . . . you didn't die until Nia was nine."

She nodded.  "Yeah, for one because I wasn't a virgin when the conception happened—turns out that was my best defense.  Sev's love acted as an antibody to the darkness within me, and it protected Nia.  Unfortunately, I had a complicated pregnancy; I almost lost Nia twice."

Draco exhaled a long breath.  "I'm glad you didn't.  She's very important to the cause."

Malika smiled softly.  "She is . . . that's my baby girl!  She's so beautiful, don't you think?"

Lily snorted.  "My son certainly thinks so—he can barely keep his eyes off her.  I wish I could've met her."

"Well, I couldn't've picked a better son-in-law if I had built him myself," Malika praised.

Draco looked at the two women in horror.  "Please stop talking like that!"

Malika winked at Lily and nodded.  "I'll oblige you now; besides I haven't finished telling you about the curse.  The other reason why I lasted as long is because Nia's a preemie—born a month early.  The curse didn't have time to fully come into fruition.  Had I carried Nia to term, I would've died as soon as she was born, though it was touch and go while I gave birth to her.  I lost a lot of blood then, but Grandpa was there to help."

"Took her almost two days, in fact."

"Glad I wasn't born a woman."  He smirked.

"You do have a low tolerance for pain, don't you, Drakkie?" Malika teased.

Draco shuddered at the name.  He hated to be called that, and he knew Malika knew it.  "I let Voldemort kill me; I think that negates that comment."

"Like I said, you're more like my son than you want to admit," Lily said.

He scowled at them and huffed.  "Oh _fine!_  Potter's not all that bad—doesn't stop the fact he gets on my nerves."

"All I wanted was an admission.  You don't have to be best mates," Lily told him.

He bit his lip as he stared at a blade of grass.  It felt weird to be here, not because he was dead, but because he was _okay_ with being dead.  Of course, initially, he'd been up in arms about it, not really believing he was, even though he'd practically forced Voldemort to kill him.  To be honest, he thought Ginny would work her magic and bring him back before the Death Eaters could properly Apparate out of Hogsmeade.  Obviously it didn't work that way, but now he was in a position where he wouldn't mind not going back to his old life.

"I told you, you wouldn't miss it," Malika said.  Her face was peculiarly sad.  "I want to miss my daughter, but I can't.  I'm in Paradise, and I know everything happens for a reason."

He gave a half-smile.  "That's one of Nia's favorite sayings."

"I know—I told her that all of the time, especially when she saw me die.  It was a rather gruesome dream.  The plane got shot down, and we crashed.  She survived, but I didn't.  She could never get three feet off the ground after that for fear of dying."

"And that solves the mystery of her fear of heights," Draco said.  "Jamilah's been having a time trying to give her flying lessons."

"But Harry is a good teacher . . . he won't let anything happen to her—he's like his father in that respect, making sure everyone is safe and out of harm's way," Lily said fondly.

Draco frowned.  "Where is Mr. Potter?"

Lily rolled her eyes and shrugged.  "Probably off walking with Malika's father.  He likes to hear old Muggle war stories, and Mr. Roberts likes to tell them."

"Muggles are here, too?" he asked.

Malika looked at him proudly and clapped.  "Very good, Mr. Malfoy!  You didn't say Mudblood or any other derogatory term for non-wizard kind."

"Death has a way of putting things into perspective," he said dryly.

Lily smiled and nodded.  "Well, to answer your question, yes, there are Muggles here, although here it doesn't really matter who had magic or not during life—everything is negated and equal.  I wish it would've been like that in life."

Draco didn't comment.  All his life, his worth had been determined by how he had compared to others—be it magic, money, or physical ability.  The more he had, the better he thought he was; now he knew that wasn't the case.  He remembered the conversation he had with Granger before all of this went down, and he felt strangely sorry for it.  _Still doesn't negate the fact she's annoying._

"It never does, but at least you've realized there's more to life than that petty stuff," Lily said.

"Too bad I learn it while I'm dead."

Malika shrugged.  "Betta late than never."

Lily laughed, and even Draco let out a chuckle.  He would have never pictured himself holding a conversation with the mothers of Nia and Harry—mothers who'd been dead long before he met either child.  Lily, while she didn't say much, exuded compassion and understanding, while Malika kept to the facts and lightened moods.  He could see how each played a role in their children's lives even beyond the grave.

"I wonder how they would've turned out had they had you with them," he murmured.

"I don't.  Everything happened the way it was supposed to happen," Malika said.

"I had to die the way I did . . . it gave my son the protection he needs against Voldemort," Lily said.

"Protection?"

Lily nodded.  "I'm sure Harry hasn't told anyone this—not even Ron or Hermione—but my love and blood protects him from Voldemort; in fact, if I hadn't sacrificed myself for him, Harry would not have stood a chance—let alone seven."

"What about Harry's father?  Doesn't he have a role to play in it?"

Lily shrugged.  "He tried to keep us both safe, and Malika told him spells to keep us out of harm's way and to defend ourselves, but Leka told us it would only be a matter of time.  When Voldemort came to our door, we knew.  James gave us enough time for me to mutter the spell that would keep my boy safe from Voldemort."

"It was an ancient spell—the one Thoth used to save Horus from Set all those millennia ago."

"Horus?  I thought Potter was the reincarnate of Apedemak."

Malika nodded.  "He is, but the scenario was just as when Isis hid her son away from Set after she gave birth.  She knew he'd be hunting him."

Draco's brows furrowed.  During his research, he'd read Horus was the son of Isis and Osiris.  The way things had been panning out, what happened all those millennia ago could happen again now.  While he loved Nia very much, he didn't love her _that way,_ and he couldn't stomach the potential of cheating on Ginny with his best friend.

"About Horus . . ." he began.

"He was really Apedemak's child.  Thoth spread the false rumor to keep Isis in favor with the people.  Even back then, children out of wedlock were frowned upon, especially when everyone thought Isis was totally faithful to her husband.  She was—just not as a wife would be; their relationship was never more than brother and sister, but to the public, they presented the perfect married couple.  Anubis was the child of Nephthys and Osiris, and he remained in the underworld with them," Malika answered.

"Did Horus ever find out?"

"I don't know," Malika admitted.  "But soon afterwards, Isis gave up her divinity and decided to live as a mortal in a temple."

"Why would she do that?  She was the most powerful goddess on earth!"

"What better way to hide from Set than as a mere human?  Set didn't fool around with Muggles, or humans for that matter, but soon he caught on and played the game.  He wreaked all sorts of havoc on the human world—the Crusades for example.  The Holy Grail?  That was Isis.  There should never be that much bloodshed for the cup Jesus sipped from.  Set appealed to the Christians' love for Jesus and turned it into his own personal vendetta.  Sickenin' if you ask me," Malika muttered.

"You worship God?" Draco asked.  Both Malika and Lily nodded.

"I went to Leka's church in London, where her aunt and uncle go.  It's such a lively place, and the singing was fantastic!"

"The gods and goddesses are like saints in the Christian faith, except they had powers.  They all believed in The One—God.  The conception of The One has transformed through many millennia, but they all worship the same person."

"Sounds controversial," Draco acknowledged.

"Well, it is.  It's hard to keep it straight when the people who know everything about it are all _dead_ now, isn't it?"

"Touché," he laughed.

"But Dumbledore still hasn't made his trip down here yet," Lily mentioned.  "Come to think of it, I'm not sure he'll _ever _die."

Malika grinned.  "I know Grandma Asenath will sure be happy to see him."

"But he's not done yet.  Harry and Nia will need him now more than ever," Lily predicted.

"I'll admit I didn't like him because I thought he took it too easy on Potter.  Half the stuff he did, I would've been expelled for."

"Not with your father lining the pockets of the governors," Lily said dryly.

"Dumbledore's mere presence in the room would overrule any amount of monetary persuasion Lucius could use."

"That's true, but think about it—Harry has a lot on his plate.  Why shouldn't he be allowed some slack at the one place that makes him happy?"

Draco refused to comment on her good point.

"And you would _think_ Petunia would show some love and compassion to her nephew," Lily said, her cheeks growing pink.

"Whatever.  That boy needs to pull that stick from her butt and beat her wit' it," Malika muttered.

Lily looked at her, aghast, before bursting into giggles.  "_Malika__!_"

"What?  You know you were thinkin' it, too," she said unapologetically.

"Yes!  This is why I had the common decency not to say anything!"

Malika looked at the other woman incredulously.  "Since when have I _ever_ censored somethin' on my mind?  You know that ain't my style!"

Draco snorted.  "It's not Nia's, either."

"Good girl.  Silence only makes poop fester," Malika said wisely.

"Or love," Lily said with a wink.

"Or frustration that my daughter and your son haven't just _told_ each other yet!  Boy!  What's takin' them so long?  _We_ have eternity, but they don't!"

Draco chuckled at Malika's passionate speech.  "She's scared, Malika.  And I don't know about Potter, but I think he's scared too.  So much for the Gryffindor in him."

Lily shook his head.  "It took his father until seventh year to tell me he loved me . . . as if I didn't know since third year."

"I told you to tell him first!  Coulda saved yourself the heartache," Malika muttered.

"Well, I always imagined the man telling me first, not vice versa!"

"Ginny told me she loved me first.  I'll admit I was angry, but it definitely made my life easier.  Women are confusing—you never know what they want, and even after they tell you, you still don't know if it's the truth or not!"

"But you have your girl!  Harry needs to get his!" Lily said emphatically.

"And age smage!  We've been hearin' his excuses.  Someone needs to tell him to get over it and get _to_ it!  They'll always be three years apart, so find another excuse, buddy!" Malika exclaimed.

He smirked at them.  "I'll just bet you've been planning this love connection since before they were born."

Lily smiled.  "Of course!  I knew I was going to have a boy, and Malika swore she was having a girl.  You could call it arranged, but it sounds so contrived.  It was more that we knew they were going to be together."

"What if Malika didn't have Nia until ten years later or something?"

"Didn't matter, though age would be _much_ more important.  However, my parents are twelve years apart, and my great grandparents were twenty years, so clearly that doesn't matter in my family," Malika replied.

"So I guess you wouldn't mind your mum and Sirius getting together?" Lily muttered.

Both looked at the redhead with shock on their faces.  "_WHAT?!_"

"Oh yes.  While you were too busy looking at our children, my focus was on your mother and our best friend—_your_ former boyfriend.  He's in love with her, and by the looks of it, she's in love with him."

It was as if something clicked in his head.  "So _that_ explains the long talks and the presence at training!  I thought he was there to help!"

"That's one way of putting it," Lily said dryly.

"And that explains why he made peace with me when he came to visit.  He said, 'There must be something about a Roberts woman that makes a bloke fall in love with her.'  I naturally assumed he was talkin' 'bout me—he was talkin' 'bout my _mama!_"

"There's your answer for the hesitancy.  He did love you, Leka, but it was never like James' love for me.  Both of you felt it was logical to be together, so you forced it.  Of course, Sirius had more invested feelings, but then again, you are like your mother in many respects," Lily said.

"And why mama kept gettin' letters from Azkaban.  Never could understand that."

"Wow, I'd really be family then—a cousin-in-law to Nia."

"And Sirius would be Severus' father-in-law," Malika snickered.  "I hope they get together, just so I can see the look on his face!"

"He'd be yours, too," Lily reminded her.  Malika shuddered good-naturedly, and Draco laughed.

"How do you know all of this stuff?" he asked.  "You know more than the people alive!"

"Of course we do.  We see everything going on in that pool over there.  No one can hide from it—not even Voldemort and Set," Lily said, her tone becoming serious.

"What about Voldemort and Set?  It wasn't enough he killed me?"

Lily shook her head.  "He means to kill my son, and Set to take Malika's daughter.  I know that is not news, but the manner in which it will be done is.  Voldemort is going to kill him from the inside out—through his dreams.  He won't even have to be near Harry, just infiltrate his mind until Harry goes so crazy he kills himself."

Draco's gray eyes widened in alarm.  "But what about the Occlumency and the Legilimency?  I thought that was to protect him from that!"

"It won't be enough . . . his mind shields are not strong enough.  This is not simple magic being used, though the Imperius Curse isn't all that simple.  It is ancient magic—darker than anything anyone has yet seen.  If Voldemort succeeds, all will be lost, for it is a domino effect.  Nia is not yet strong enough, as you undoubtedly know, and if Harry goes, she won't have a chance," Lily explained.

"How can the mind shields be strong enough?  I thought I was doing well until Set disabled mine!  He almost found out who Isis was!" Draco said with frustration.

Lily looked at him sympathetically.  "You were still missing a large piece of the puzzle.  It made you vulnerable; it makes Harry vulnerable as well."

"Then again, everything happens for a reason, right?" Malika added.

It was all Draco could do not to roll his eyes.  He had to die to save everyone else.  He never wanted to be a martyr.

"And we are telling you this for a reason.  You need to know, love.  You'll be surprise how much you can help," Lily reassured him.

"Fine.  What about Ginny?  What do I need to know that will help her?"

"She's reached her full potential.  Her transformation into the vulture was nothing short of fantastic," Lily said with pride.

"We're Animagi?"

"Comes in handy from time to time," Malika said.  "I never changed, though.  Never had the need to.  But I thought James' Animagus form was beautiful."

"Prongs," Lily said dreamily.  "Sometimes he'd let me ride on his back when we went to the woods behind our house.  He'd say, 'I'm your noble steed, my fair princess.'"

"It was corny," Malika told him with a wink.

"You're just mad your husband couldn't do it."

Malika moved her mouth mockingly to Draco, and he laughed.

"She's making fun of me, isn't she?" Lily deadpanned.

"_Never!_" Malika gasped, and the women fell on their backs in a fit of giggles.  They were very much like Ginny and Nia, and Draco smiled.  He wished he had a male friend with whom he didn't have to _prove_ himself all the time.

"My son could be that person, if you let him."

He snapped his attention to Lily and saw she reclined on her elbows, a small smile on his face.  "I remember when James saved Severus' life from Remus.  Severus could never get over the fact he'd done it, and he hated being indebted to a _Potter_ of all people, but he returned the favor by saving us from the first Death Eater attack, telling us about the logistics and everything.  From then, it was the start of a delicate friendship.  Both men pretended Malika and I didn't know anything about it, but we did.  That friendship was stolen from us when Pettigrew revealed our secret.  Voldemort knew it would have spelled doom for him if their friendship bond totally solidified."

Draco put the pieces together.  "So you're saying _I_ can help save his life as well as Nia?"

Malika nodded.  "Think about it, honey.  Ginny is friends with all three of you, so is Nia.  The weak links in the covenant are you two.  You two resist each other, which makes you weak.  That is why Ginny is strong, and that is why both you and Harry were vulnerable in the fight.  Nia is vulnerable because she's in denial, and so are the two of you.  Your missing piece to your full potential is your bond with Harry."

Draco's lip curled.  "Unbelievable."

Lily chuckled.  "Yes, that's what James said when Asenath told him.  All of this could have been avoided if they let bygones be bygones earlier.  Everyone in the covenant is connected somehow—You and Ginny because you are soul mates, you and Nia because you are, for all intents and purposes, family—and you and Harry because of your friendship.  The longer you let ill times fester between you two, the more vulnerable you are.  Ginny is the strongest of you because all of her relationships are solidified.  The only reason you're stronger than Harry is because you are bonded with your soul mate.  If you weren't, you'd be less powerful than Harry right now."

He scowled.  "Wonderful.  I'll never be better than he is."

"It is not a competition," Malika said, giving him a light glare.  "That's one thing you need to realize.  The second thing you need to know is Harry and Nia are the strongest of the four—it has to do with their reincarnates—and in Nia's case, her bloodline.  She is a direct descendant of Isis; therefore, she'll be very powerful.  There's a reason these two have to be the ones to destroy Voldemort and Set.  You can't do it, neither can Ginny, but it takes all four of you to help Nia and Harry accomplish that goal."

Draco nodded, properly reprimanded.  "It's bigger than I."

Lily nodded.  "Yes.  Thanatos thought he was smart by giving you Lucius as a father, but once again, he underestimated Fate.  You would fulfill your destiny, even if it took a detour."

"Much as Sev did," Malika remembered.

Draco didn't respond.  Fate was a funny thing—making him die only to learn information that would have helped the Cause tremendously.  Perhaps Malika was right; perhaps it was better late than never.  Obviously they were helping from beyond the grave, and Draco would do everything in his power to help as well . . . right after he took a nap.  His eyes began to droop, and he struggled to keep them open.  He wanted to learn more about this strange, ancient power, but his body had other thoughts.  "I wasn't aware we needed sleep even after death."

"It happens to the best of us," Lily said, her voice sounding husky.

He felt someone fumbling through his pockets, and he sat up, looking at two guilty women.  "What?" he asked.

"We wanted you to hold something for us," Lily said.  There were tears in her eyes, and she hugged Malika tightly.

Draco was confused.  Why would she be crying?  He was just going to sleep!  "I'll be back," he said jokingly.

"Not for a long while, Sleepin' Beauty," Malika said with a soft smile.

Draco rolled his eyes and smirked.  "Fine.  Whatever.  When I wake up, I want to hear more stories."

"You will; trust me," Lily said on a watery laugh.

"We'll see you later, honey . . . _ much_ later . . ." Malika said.

Draco snorted and closed his eyes.  Total darkness consumed him, regardless that the Fields were bright and sunny, and his body felt as if it was repairing itself.  Never had he felt more rested than he did, so quickly.  _Maybe when you're dead, you don't need as much sleep._

One eye popped open, and a blinding light greeted it.  He tried to lift his hand to block the light, but someone was holding it very tightly.  He tried to tug it out of the vice grip, but it merely tightened around his hand.  _What the—_

"_He moved!_"

The tone was full of awe and disbelief.  Why were they acting so weird?  He'd been dead for a while, and yet moving and talking as if he was alive.  Besides, they'd been dead longer than he had!

He squinted and saw the familiar red hair.  He decided to play their game.  "What are you on about, Lily?  Of course I moved!  How else was I able to lie down to sleep?"

"Lily?"

His head turned to the sound of the voice, but his eyes never fully opened—it was far too bright for him to do so.  There were only two people who spoke with that voice, anyway, and one of them was currently alive.  "Of course, Malika!  That's her name, isn't it?"

He was smacked, and it bloody hurt.  He sat up quickly, grasping his cheek in shock.  "What did you do that for?  I'm up!"  His eyes watered, and his vision was blurry, but he noticed something that quickly sent his mind reeling.

"Don't you _ever_ do that to me again, Draco Malfoy!" the dark woman said angrily.

Draco turned to Lily for support, but his speech left him as soon as he saw her.

"Lily's" eyes were brown, not green.

He remembered Malika's last comment before he went to sleep—"See you later, honey . . . _ much_ later . . ."

_Roberts women always have to be right,_ he thought, right before he fainted.


	9. Nine

_Nine_

_How in the hell is it mid-December already?_

They'd just ended the last Quidditch practice of the term, and he was glad for it. He felt as if the school year just started, while at the same time, years had passed since they boarded the train to begin seventh year. Surely a lot had happened since then—most notably the attack on Hogsmeade and Malfoy's "death."

The attack still had many of the students reeling, though it happened almost two months ago. Initially the students had been upset when the Halloween trip was cancelled and even considered going to Hogsmeade on their own. It took a firm Dumbledore to threaten expulsion if any student did, but after Hogsmeade's attack, the students finally understood the gravity of the situation. There were some who lost family members in the attack, and faculty members, along with some counselors, helped the students grieve. Ron was among the lucky ones, for he didn't have anyone who fell in the attack. He felt guilty and sad his sister couldn't make the same claim.

When Draco had been pronounced dead, it was as if someone sucker punched Ron with a two-by-four. Death was a foreign concept to him—even when Sirius died. For better or for worse, Malfoy was a central piece in his world, even if he was a bullying prat. The prospect of never hearing Malfoy call him a Weasel came with dread instead of relief as he thought it would. Death was too permanent, and he didn't wish it on Draco, no matter how annoying the git was.

But now, that didn't matter, for Malfoy was alive. No one would tell Ron how it happened, but he knew it had something to do with Nia Roberts. He was secretly glad of the news; his sister was happy again. She'd been deathly quiet during Malfoy's death, and he could not comfort her. For those two days, she spent every waking moment by Malfoy's side, and the hollow look upon her face broke his heart. While in the grand scheme of things two days was nothing, for Ron it might as well have been two decades. It was good to see her smiling again, even if it took Malfoy's resurrection to accomplish the feat. Of course Malfoy was still the same git he always was, but now it seemed more for sport on his part than actual malice.

He didn't know what to make of it.

"Ron!"

He saw his sister approach, and he smiled, opening his arms to hug her. She went into his arms willingly, and he just held her for a while. It had been too long since they had sat and talked without worrying about Dark forces and premonitions. He admitted to himself he missed his baby sister and knew he would never see her that way again. But the woman she'd become more than made up for that part of his life. She was indeed lovely, growing into herself and the role she was supposed to fulfill flawlessly. Though to this day he still didn't fully approve of her life mate, there was only so much he could do against fate. Draco was good to her, and in the end that was the most important thing, but the minute the blonde so much as _breathed_ wrong, Set would be the _last_ thing the Slytherin would have to fear.

"You don't have any training to do?" he asked, his eyebrow raised. They separated and began to make their way to the castle. Everyone else had already left the pitch for dinner, and Harry said he'd save them a seat.

"No. Jamilah thought we deserved a break after all we've been through. We won't have to pick back up until after the New Year," Ginny said breathlessly. "Two whole weeks to _relax . . ._ it feels good to be just Ginny Weasley again."

Ron snorted and wrapped his arm around her shoulders. "You were never 'just' anything, love. You've always been special, even before this reincarnate business started."

She beamed at him, and his heart swelled. "Thank you, big brother. I needed to hear that, especially after—"

It was still hard for her to talk about—the death of Draco. It didn't matter that he was alive _now;_ Ron knew Ginny thought he shouldn't have _died_ in the first place.

"How's he doing?"

She smiled at him and nodded. "Fine. Just fine. After he fainted when he awoke, it was as if nothing happened. Physically he had a clean bill of heath and is even better now than he was before then."

"Well . . . what _did_ happen?"

Ginny shook her head. "I don't know, but he's been awfully tight-lipped about his experience—not that I blame him anyway. I can't talk about being possessed by Voldemort all that freely, so why should I expect him to be forthcoming about his brush with the Dark Lord?"

Ron scowled and looked ahead of him. Everything that bastard touched turned to ash, and he hated Voldemort all the more for it. However, they were just like phoenixes—Harry, Ginny, and even Malfoy—for they came out of it better than they entered. In a sense, it was a double-edged sword—baptism by fire—but the fewer people who had to endure it the better.

"Anyway, enough about me. How are _you,_ darling brother of mine?"

He scowled at her, and she giggled, not at all intimidated by his surliness. Why should she be? She'd seen and experienced much scarier beings than Ron. He sighed and shrugged. "Nothing much, just wondering where the year went."

She made an inelegant sound. "I don't care where it went. I'm just glad it's over."

"Only a semester left until we leave. Aren't you going to miss your big brother when I go?"

Ginny rolled her eyes but grinned. "Like you'll ever give me a moment's peace! I'm sure you'll figure out ways to always be around to 'check up on me.'" She put the last bit in air quotes, and he smiled. Of course he'd check up on her; she was at the top of Voldemort's list after all! She'd be at Hogwarts without anyone—not even Malfoy—and it left her vulnerable.

"I worry for you, love. You're the only sister I have."

"Don't worry; I'm sure you'll have plenty of sisters-in-laws to even things out a bit," she said happily.

"They don't count," Ron muttered.

"I wouldn't let Fred hear that if I were you," she murmured.

He stopped dead in his tracks, despite the fact the cold had begun to creep in now that they'd finished exercising. "Say that again?"

"He wrote me to say he was going to ask Angelina to marry him."

Ron was happy and nervous at the same time. He liked Angelina—a lot, even despite her, er, _determination_ on the Quidditch pitch. If anyone could make Fred serious for more than two seconds, it was she. But for a minute, he thought Ginny knew something more than that.__

"How do you feel about it?"

"Love Angelina! She's been like a big sister to me all this time anyway, so why not make it official?"

"My sentiments exactly!" He bit his lip, wondering if he should tell her what was on the tip of his tongue. _Why the hell not? She's my sister anyway! _"What do you think about Hermione being one of those sister-in-laws?"

She stopped walking, but Ron kept on, allowing a grin to form on his face. He'd expected that reaction, but not the next one, when she squealed and launched herself on his back. He let out a grunt at the force of her body weight and staggered a bit, before readjusting her to rest more comfortably and securely. Ginny hugged his neck tightly and kissed his cheek. "YES! YES! YES!"

"Oi! It's not like I'm asking _you_ to marry me!"

"Not for all the galleons in Gringotts!" she laughed.

"_Thanks!_" he pouted.

"But she would for free!"

He couldn't help the blush creeping up his cheeks. "You think so?"

"I know so. She loves you, Ron! Madly! Then again, she would have to be mad to be in love with you."

He snorted and tickled the backs of her knees, causing her to squeal and jerk on his back. "I'm mad, am I? I'm not the one who's in love with a ferret!"

"Ferrets and Weasels have a lot in common," she said in defense as she kissed his cheek.

Ron rolled his eyes and shook his head. "You _are_ cousins."

"Not even close enough for it to matter," Ginny said, patting his cheek condescendingly. "In a way, we're all related anyway—we had to start from one man and one woman."

"Thanks for that lovely reminder," he said with a shudder. He couldn't think of Hermione as even remotely related to him, not with all of the fantasies he'd been having of late. This time he shivered.

"Are you cold?" Ginny asked in his ear. "Hurry it up! Nia's not out here, and quite frankly, she couldn't make it warm if she wanted to—Jamilah would kill her!"

Ron chuckled at her sudden bossiness but kept his pace. He rather liked the brisk air hitting his cheeks, and the stars were starting to make their nightly appearance—much like they did in Hermione's eyes whenever she looked at him.

He scowled again. That thought was much too sentimental for his liking.

"So when will you ask her?"

He shrugged as he climbed the steps to the entrance hall. "I don't know. Christmas seems so cliché that I don't want to do it then, but then again, it's the most wonderful time of the year. Besides, I don't really want to make a grand production out of it."

"You haven't told the twins, have you?"

He snorted but blushed. "I'm not daft, woman!"

She squeezed his neck again before sliding down his back. "Good! They would've told the whole of wizarding world by now! Anyway, thanks for the ride! We haven't done that in a long time."

"Well, you're much heavier now than you were when you were six," Ron said wryly.

Ginny punched his arm before she wrapped her arms around it and leaned into him. "I didn't have a care in the world then."

He hadn't either. It was funny how much could change in a decade. The Dark Lord was back _with_ reinforcements, fear was commonplace, and now the school was on lockdown. If he didn't have his friends, Ron knew he would've been committed to St. Mungo's long before now. "We'll come out of this," he promised Ginny. They had to; there was too much at stake for them to lose to You-Know-Who and his gits. He planned to have Hermione as his wife and his own Quidditch team _plus_ alternates. No Dark Lord or washed-up god with a vendetta would stop that from happening.

His stomach began to rumble as the aroma of dinner tickled his nose. Ginny patted his belly and snorted. "It's like holding a carrot in front of a horse, I tell you!"

"You're lucky I love you, or you would've seen a nasty hex coming your way," he muttered.

"And I would've dissolved it without batting an eyelash, babe. Don't mess with Nephthys," she said with an arched eyebrow.

He brought his free hand around her neck and hugged her tightly. "You maybe be Nephthys to the rest of the world, but you're still little Ginnykins to me!"

She tickled him, and Ron let out an embarrassing giggle as he loosened his grip. Ginny stuck her tongue out at him and ran into the Great Hall. He growled at her cunning as he followed her; she'd been spending _way_ too much time with the Slytherins.

True to his word, Harry saved seats for them. As was customary, Ginny and Harry had an unobstructed view of the Slytherin table, leaving Hermione and Ron to face them. He'd caught on to this trick earlier this year but didn't say anything. Even he admitted it was a clever move.

Ron gave a loving kiss to Hermione's cheek, uncaring she was mid-bite on her turkey leg. She rolled her eyes and chewed, but he was pleased to see her cheeks take a rosy color.

"I was just telling Hermione about our new play. I think we'll be able to get the Slytherin team good," Harry said as Ron sat down.

Ginny snorted. "Draco's not going to take whatever we throw them lying down. I'm sure they'll have a few tricks up their sleeves."

"Illegal ones," Ron muttered. Ginny glared at him, and he blew her a kiss.

Harry smirked at the exchange and shook his head. "Regardless, I'm sure this game is as good as won."

Hermione looked smug. "Of course it is; you are the best Seeker this school's ever seen—no offense, Ginny."

She shrugged. "I'm a Chaser, anyway, but I'd like to remind you I helped the Gryffindor team win the cup my fourth year, thank you very much."

Harry tapped her with his elbow. "No doubt studying my moves."

Ginny gave a half smile and quirked her eyebrow. "Actually . . . it was more Malfoy's style, really."

The pumpkin juice Ron was drinking went down the wrong pipe. He coughed, and Hermione patted his back to help clear his windpipe. "Don't _ever_ say that!"

Ginny looked at him with innocence in her eyes. "I didn't say anything wrong!"

He looked at her, aghast. "You practically admitted to watching Malfoy since your fourth year!"

Ginny rolled her eyes. "Oh, _honestly,_ Ron! That's not a crime. Besides, he's a damn good Seeker!"

"Not as good as Harry!" Ron shot back.

"Please . . . guys . . . you're embarrassing me," Harry said, his cheeks tinted red. Ron noticed some people at their table looking at them with amusement and curiosity. He glared at Ginny and resumed his dinner. The four ate in silence as the rest of the hall chattered.

"Oi, Ginny!" Dean yelled from Ron's right.

She spared Dean a brief glance. "Yeah?"

"Is that Roberts girl single?"

Ron watched Harry scowl and look to the Slytherin table. Harry's gaze softened slightly before they turned hard again as he looked back at Dean. Ginny's eyes darted between the two men, and she answered cautiously, "Yes."

Dean looked behind him and grinned. "Good."

Harry calmly put his fork down, giving Dean his undivided attention . . . whether the other boy asked for it or not. "And why do you care?"

Dean shrugged. "I was thinking about asking her to the dance."

_Oh yeah . . . __that . ._

There was to be a New Year's Eve dance that year, to make up for the lockdown they were experiencing. Ron couldn't blame the faculty for keeping them all at Hogwarts; after the destruction at Hogsmeade, everyone was on edge—even the parents supported the decision to keep them there. The longer the students were safe from Voldemort and his lunacy, the better off everyone was. Hermione told him it was actually Malfoy's idea. The Yule Ball was fun, but no one, not even arrogant _Malfoy_, wanted to have to dress up in nice robes and such, so it was a much less formal affair.

But a dance was a dance, and the most important thing about a dance was to have a date. Ron was glad he already had _his_ first choice.

"Why ask her? She's a Slytherin!"

Dean rolled his eyes. "So what? She's _gorgeous!_ Look at her, Potter; don't tell me you haven't noticed! I'm surprised some Slytherin bloke hadn't snatched her up yet—"

Harry's scowl deepened. "She's not a _fish,_ Dean. She's not for anyone to snatch!"

Dean nudged Seamus' shoulder. "I guess no one's thrown her a good 'line' yet!"

The boys laughed at Dean's barb, but Harry was unimpressed. Even Ron rolled his eyes at that one.

"I would appreciate it if you'd stop talking about my friend that way," Ginny said through clenched teeth.

"And if you even think about asking her to the dance, I'll make what I did to Malfoy in fifth year seem like a pat on the back," Harry said, throwing down his napkin and stomping off from the Hall. They all watched his progress until the door closed behind him.

Ron had never seen Harry so . . . _possessive_ before, not even over his Firebolt! It was then he knew it was time to have a little chat with his best friend.

"Great job, Dean!" Ginny suddenly exclaimed, handing the older boy some products from their brothers' joke shop.

Dean grinned as he took them. "Thanks, though there wasn't much acting on my part—she's _beautiful!_ If I didn't know what I know, I _would_ ask her."

"Not after that threat though, eh, mate?" Seamus laughed.

Ron looked at the boys incredulously before turning to Ginny. "That was all a setup?"

Ginny shrugged unapologetically, looking mighty pleased with herself.

"Ginny!" Hermione said in admonishment, though Ron could hear the hidden admiration in her tone.

"Oh, c'mon, Hermione! You know he needs a little push to get off his arse. He should take her to the dance!"

Ron looked at his little sister in disappointment. "You tricked Harry, made him jealous, all so he could ask Nia to the dance?" Ginny nodded, looking mildly ashamed. "And you didn't even _tell_ me?"

Ginny smirked. "You'd blab to him. Couldn't risk it; could've compromised the mission."

He stared at her with reluctant awe. "You're spending too much time with the Slytherins."

"Strategy is not a Gryffindor's strong suit, you have to admit."

He shrugged. "You know Harry's going to get you back for that."

"He can do that _after_ their wedding . . . speaking of which," she said with a wink, looking pointedly between him and Hermione. Ron thought if Harry ever planned his sister's demise, he'd be more than happy to assist with the arrangements.

"Who's getting married?" Hermione asked. Ron looked warily at his sister and kicked her shin.

"Ow!"

"Are you all right?" Hermione asked kindly. Ginny glared at Ron but offered a smile to Hermione.

"Yeah, I'm fine . . . some of my brothers are thinking of popping the question," Ginny said, none too vaguely.

Hermione's eyes sparkled as she looked to Ron. "Really? Who? Tell me!"

She was entirely too beautiful, he mused as he stared at her. There was no way a bloke like him deserved a woman like her, of that he was sure. He noticed Ginny look at him with rapt amusement, and he scowled. "Fred," Ron mumbled, shoving shepherd's pie into his mouth.

Hermione squealed, and he grinned at his girlfriend. Rarely did Hermione show her girly side, but when she did, it was endearing. "When? Oh, that's wonderful news!"

Ginny laughed and held out her hands to placate the excited girl. "Wait a minute! He hasn't asked her yet, but I'm sure _no_ woman could reject the Weasley charm." Ginny looked at Ron pointedly, and he had half a mind to do away with her himself.

"Don't I know. He had me at 'Ron Weasley,'" Hermione said with a wink towards Ron. The look of unadulterated love Hermione sent his way made him reconsider plotting his sister's downfall.

"When did Hermione have you?" Ginny asked, very annoyingly. He didn't know what was going on with his sister, but it was as if they were five and six again, and she was asking questions she knew would get him in a pickle.

"That's all right, Ginny. He doesn't have to answer. We're together now," Hermione said, but he heard the mild disappointment in her voice.

He glared at Ginny and looked at his plate. When _did_ Hermione have him? He could say from birth, but he didn't even know her then. Or he _could_ say when she went to the Yule Ball with Vicky, but that was when he decided to admit it to himself. No, he knew exactly when she had him.

"When Neville said you were in the girls' bathroom crying because I had teased you . . . then the troll. That's when I knew. You even took the fall for us, despite the fact _I'm_ the one who put you in harm's way. I knew then there would be no one like you."

He said it all while looking at his plate, and he felt his cheeks go red. A wet, soft sensation grazed said cheeks, and he looked up to see a smiling Hermione.

"I love you," she said sincerely.

He didn't understand his sudden shyness, but he looked down at his plate again. Those eyes, those brown eyes he'd come to search for during the past seven years, did a number on him every time he saw them. He couldn't imagine his life never seeing those eyes again, and he wanted them to be the first thing he saw in the morning and the last thing he saw at night.

Hermione Granger would be his wife; that was a guarantee.

"I love you, too, Hermione."

She kissed his cheek again and returned to her dinner. Ron returned to his as well, but the forkful of food never made it to his mouth. He regarded the fork and the food on it for a moment. He needed nutrition to survive, to live. He would die without it. He sneaked a glance at Hermione and thought of the similarity she had with the food. Ron made a face, well aware the thought was unromantic, but he couldn't deny the basic commonality between Hermione and food. He remembered when he told her she was his drug after the battle in the Department of Mysteries. In a way she was, an addiction he never wanted to end, but she was also essential to his life—just as food was. Of course he could _survive_ without her, theoretically, but it would be like he was given a Dementor's Kiss if she was ever taken from him.

_My . . . _that's_ a morbid thought!_

"Are you going to eat that sometime this year, Ron?" he heard Ginny ask with a hint of amusement. He glared at her before putting the fork in his mouth. Beside him, Hermione let her fork clatter on her plate, and she stood abruptly.

"Where are you going?" he asked her, his mouth full of food.

She gave him a distasteful look before looking at Ginny. "Malfoy and I have to go over plans for the dance. Where do you want him to meet you for rounds?"

"Library's fine," Ginny said before sipping from her glass.

"Since I'm sure you're going there to study," Ron muttered as he looked at her incredulously. When Ginny wasn't training, in class, eating, or practicing Quidditch, she was usually with Malfoy. Though he was sure nothing like _that_ happened yet, regardless that he had no way of knowing, he still thought they spent entirely too much time together.

Besides, there was no way his baby sister would lose her virginity before _he_ did!

Ginny quirked an eyebrow. "We are . . . anatomy, in fact . . ."

Hermione gasped in disbelief, and Ron blushed even as he glared at his sister. Malfoy had an entirely _bad_ influence on his sweet, innocent, little sister.

_Right. And You-Know-Who is the Easter bunny . . ._

"I hope you mean _from a book,_" Hermione said warningly as she gave Ginny a slight frown.

Ginny's eyes darted past him, and Ron knew she was staring at Malfoy. "Does the _Kama Sutra_ count?"

Ron felt himself turn green. "The pictures in that book _move!_"

Suddenly two pairs of brown eyes were upon him—one set amused, the other bemused. "How do you know that?"

Ron shrank in his chair at their question, hastily putting more food into his mouth. He would never admit he took Hermione's studying habits to heart and studied the book in the Restricted Section. He'd overheard Fred and Sirius talking about it during the summer, and he wanted to see for himself.

_The pictures moved . . ._

"Wipe that grin off your face, Ron! You are _unbelievable!_"

"Ouch!" he yelped, scowling at his girlfriend, who tapped him none too gently on the shoulder. Ginny snickered across the table from him, and he stuck out his tongue.

"Real mature, Ronald. I'm sure that'll bring you _that_ much closer in trying to practice what you read in the book," Ginny said, her thumb and forefinger an inch apart. Ron glanced at Hermione, making sure she was as red as he was.

He wasn't disappointed.

"Let's hope _you_ haven't had any 'practice,'" Hermione accused.

Ginny didn't bat an eyelash. "Like we'd need it."

Ron's mouth dropped open, and his eyes widened. "Ginevra Molly Weasley!"

Ginny rolled her eyes and stood. "Oh _fine!_ I'll be a good girl now. I'm going upstairs to shower anyway."

"_Alone!_" Ron added with a frown.

His sister merely laughed and nodded towards Hermione. "I'll walk you out?"

Hermione glanced Ron's way and shrugged. "I'll see you in the common room?"

He nodded and presented his cheek to her. Hermione rolled her eyes, yet grinned as she bent and kissed his cheek. Ron smiled and watched two of the three women he loved most in the world leave the Great Hall.

_And hopefully . . . all three will be Weasleys._

He'd need to borrow Harry's invisibility cloak, so he could get off Hogwarts grounds and Apparate into Diagon Alley. Hogsmeade was still in the process of rebuilding, and none of the stores were ready for business.

_What time did Fred's letter say we should meet? I guess I'll have to go upstairs and check it, then._

He downed the rest of his juice before getting up to leave. He was so wrapped up in his thoughts he didn't notice someone follow him.

"Answer her when she's talking to you, Weasel."

Ron gritted his teeth, ready to spew expletives when he turned and found Nia in his wake instead. He turned his head back in his original direction to see Malfoy smirk and give him a mock salute.

"Git."

"And today he was bein' nice, too," Nia said wryly.

Ron snorted. "One would think having a brush with death would make a bloke nicer."

"He is nicer. You should hear the stuff he calls you when you _ain't_ around."

"_That_ brings peace to my mind," Ron said dryly.

"It should. He actually calls you _Ron._"

That was the last thing he'd ever expect Malfoy to call him, and he didn't know what to think about that. "Does he now?"

Nia snickered. "Heck no! But he don't call you Weasel no mo'—we upgraded to Weasley, now. I think that's a step, don't you?"

Ron's cheeks burned, angry at himself for falling into her trap . . . even if it was set up properly. "Is there a reason you wanted to speak to me?"

The humor in her eyes transformed into worry and concern. "Is Harry all right? He left the Hall in a mighty hurry."

He looked at her through slightly narrowed eyes. "What's it to you?"

She stepped back from him and held her hands up in a sign of surrender. "Well, _jeez!_ Didn't know a friend can't be concerned for a friend. Shoulda known betta to ask you in the first place—"

"What are your intentions towards him?"

"Are you his mama?" she asked, placing her hands on her hips.

He felt himself blushing a bit. "No, but I _am_ his friend. And if this is some sort of cruel joke you and Malfoy have concocted, it needs to end _now. _Harry's endured far more hurt than any decent human should, and I wouldn't be too kind to you if you add on more for him."

The fury in her golden eyes softened after his speech. "He has been hurt too much . . "

"You won't hurt him, will you?"

Nia didn't respond right away, and Ron's heart began to beat fast. He wasn't as thick as he had been when it came to him and Hermione; he knew his best friend had feelings for the girl before him, and unless he was completely dense, she had feelings for Harry as well.

"I will hurt him," she finally said, resigned.

He _definitely_ didn't expect the admission, but he couldn't help the swell of anger that came forth. "You Slytherin scum."

"It will be for the best," she said dazedly, completely ignoring his outburst.

Ron was confused. "How could _hurting_ Harry be for the best?"

Nia shook her head and hugged herself. "It won't be because I _don't_ love him that I hurt him . . . it'll be because I do."

Ron sucked in a breath and stared at her in awe. He had a feeling it was the goddess in her talking that way, and he was afraid of the implications her prophecy held. "Nia?"

She blinked her eyes before looking at him, offering Ron a small smile. "I just want Harry to be happy, Ron. Tell him to buck up and find a nice girl to take to the dance, okay?"

His confusion deepened, and he shook his head to clear it. "But—bu—"

She lifted her hand to still his words, her expression wistful. "Tell Fred Angelina's awfully fond of opals—that's her birthstone."

It was the second time his mouth dropped open. "How did you—"

Nia laughed. "He wrote me a letter asking for advice. Looks like you'll be seein' more of me wetha you wanna or not."

"Better you than Malfoy," he muttered.

She snorted. "Then you'll really be in a pickle. You know he plans to marry your sister."

He growled. If he were completely honest with himself, Ron would say Malfoy and Ginny already acted like a married couple. Nia's prediction only confirmed his worst nightmare. "And when will this marriage take place, hmm? She still has a year left at Hogwarts!"

Nia shrugged. "She'll be of legal age in June . . ."

Ron sighed and ran his hand over his face in frustration. "I won't allow it."

"And as I said, you won't have anything to say about it. You know Malfoy, and you know Ginny. They do what they want and when they want—consequences be damned."

Ron did the mental math and groaned. Today was December thirteenth, and in exactly six months, his baby sister—the youngest Weasley—had the potential to become a Malfoy. He thought he was severely close to having a coronary.

"But then again, I'm just speculating. Maybe Malfoy will die again."

That comment snapped him out of his trance, and he scowled at her. "Don't say that."

Nia smiled, and Ron felt he got suckered again. "Oh, Weasley, I didn't know you cared."

He gritted his teeth again and tried to contain his blush. "I care about my _sister's_ happiness, and, whether I like it or not, the ferret git makes her happy."

"Good; we have something in common, then. So leave them alone." She attempted to walk past him, but he gently grabbed her arm. Nia looked at him, half annoyed, half curious. "What?"

"I care about Harry's happiness as well."

"Once again, we have something in common."

He opened his mouth, yet hesitated. She admitted she would hurt Harry, but Ron decided it would hurt his friend more if he didn't say this. "I think you could make him happy." She sucked in a wild breath, and her golden eyes went wide. He offered her a small smile, and Nia turned quickly, going to the dungeons.

Ron chuckled as he made his way to the Tower. Her reaction all but confirmed his suspicions—the young Slytherin was in love with his best friend. He understood her hesitation and realized they would have a hell of a lot more trouble than any other two people would. Two of the darkest forces in the world wanted them dead, and for them to come together—publicly or not—could spell disaster for the wizarding world. In a sense, Nia _would_ hurt Harry—because she wouldn't be with him. But as she said, it was because she loved him that she would deny him. If Nia didn't care about Harry at all, she would have no qualms about being with him, thus putting Harry in danger.

_Harry's a lucky man . . . and so am I._

That was the type of thing he could see Hermione doing, but Ron would be too stubborn and selfish to allow her to. As it was, he was trying to get her to stay with him forever _now!_

He approached the portrait and said the password quickly, intent on getting his money, cloak, and Harry's invisibility cloak, making sure to leave a note before he did. His mother taught him manners, after all.

He took the stairs to the dorm two at a time and slammed the door open, though his bluster came to a halt when he saw Harry holding a letter in his hands, staring at it almost blankly. "Harry?"

The other boy did not acknowledge his presence. Harry's hands trailed over the parchment as if it were a sacred writ. Ron dropped his belongings silently on the bed before sitting beside Harry. Neither boy spoke for a few moments, and Ron directed his eyes anywhere but at the letter. If Harry wanted him to read it, he would.

Harry let out a small chuckle, and Ron looked at him in surprise. "What?"

Harry's green eyes sparkled with a bit of mirth, and he smirked. "Aren't you going to ask who the letter's from?"

Ron shrugged lazily. "I reckon if you want me to know, you'll tell me."

Harry grinned and nodded, looking at the letter again. Ron didn't force him to say anything, willing to wait out the other boy's contemplations.

"Remember . . . remember back in first year when we first saw the Mirror of Erised?"

Ron snorted. He remembered it all right. "I'm not the Head Boy."

"And I don't have my parents . . . not physically anyway . . "

Ron quirked an eyebrow and looked at his friend. "How do you mean?"

Harry tilted his chin toward the letter. "This letter? It's from my parents. Read the date on it."

Ron did so, aloud. "October 31, _1997_?" Harry nodded but did not say anything. "But that's impossible! They died when you were one!"

"But that's the day Draco died as well."

Realization slammed into Ron like a tidal wave. "_No way!_"

Harry shook his head and shrugged. "I keep thinking _maybe_ this is some sort of cruel trick by Malfoy . . . but I—I can _feel_ my parents in this letter. I know it's authentic and genuine, and I'm…I'm overwhelmed."

"Draco Malfoy met your parents?"

Harry snorted. "So unfair, I know."

"Did he give you the letter himself?"

Harry shook his head. "Nia gave it to me . . . she got a letter as well—from _her_ mum."

Ron understood what that meant. "So it's definitely real. Draco loves Nia; he'd never hurt her like that." He couldn't believe he said something remotely civil about Malfoy, especially when it didn't concern his sister, but he could no more deny the affection between Draco and Nia than he could his love for Hermione.

"It's real, and it's _them._ This letter is _them—sixteen years_ after they first died."

Ron was silent for a moment, and he grasped Harry's shoulder firmly. "Do you want to talk about it?"

Harry shrugged again. "As soon as I find the words to describe how I feel, I'll let you know."

"When did she give you the letter?"

"Right after Malfoy woke up . . . I couldn't read it until a few weeks ago, after a training session . . . Nia saw my parents die again."

Ron looked at him in surprise. "What do you mean _again?_"

Harry sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "We do link exercises during training, and she's been able, at times, to see my parents die—as in, what I saw when I was a year old."

Ron was amazed, his mouth opening and closing a bit before he could find his voice. "Well, has she _told_ you what she's seen?"

Harry shook his head. "Not that I can really blame her; there's a reason I suppressed it in my subconscious all those years ago."

"But you have a right to know!"

"The question is, does it matter? They're dead, and they're going to be dead long after she tells me. You know, she has no idea why her mother died."

Ron shook his head in disbelief. "Must be hard . . . not having the closure. I hope to Merlin I never experience something like that."

"I hope so, too, mate. But this letter, it gave me closure, as much closure as I can get. I don't need to hear what Nia has to say right now. This brings me closer to my mum and dad more than anything I could've possibly dreamed."

"What does it say?"

Harry smiled. "They are proud of me. I never knew how much that simple statement could mean to me. Dumbledore says it often, but it's not the same as hearing your own parents say it."

Ron nodded. He knew how important it was to have his mum and dad's approval, regardless of how pushy his mum could be. He wanted them to be proud of him, and though he made mistakes, he felt confident in them _because_ he knew, no matter what, Molly and Arthur Weasley would be proud to call him a son. "I'm proud of you, so are Hermione, and my sister, and the whole of the wizarding world."

Harry snorted. "Even the Death Eaters?"

Ron smirked. "_Especially _them. You can't possibly convince me they _really_ want that wonky man running the wizarding world?"

"Well, one has to be wonky in order to follow the wonk."

Ron chuckled and ruffled Harry's hair. "When did you get so profound?"

Harry laid his letter carefully on the nightstand before tackling Ron in a headlock. "I'm a reincarnated god! Of _course_ I'm profound!"

The wrestled good-naturedly, and Ron was glad they could just be _silly_ for once! All of this doom and gloom really put a damper on everyone's spirits—none more so than Harry's. To see him have a little bit of fun made Ron feel much better.

Until Harry pinned him to the bed, that was.

"Damn training," Ron muttered.

"Does a body good, don't you think?" Harry smirked.

Ron mocked Harry and kneed him none too gently in the stomach. The black-haired boy made an _oof_ sound and rolled off him. Both boys were sprawled on Harry's bed, staring at the canopy above it. He and Harry only had one more term left of staring at these canopies before they went to sleep, and if Ron admitted it to himself, he was all for the change. He'd rather see a bushy-haired Head Girl before he fell to sleep, anyway.

"Harry?"

The other boy sighed deeply before answering. "Yeah?"

It was Ron's turn to sigh. "May I borrow your cloak?"

It was a while before Harry answered. "You're a prefect, Ron."

Ron smiled at that. He knew Harry said that merely as a disclaimer—just in case Hermione started in on him for whatever mischievousness Ron would do. He desperately hoped it wouldn't come to that.

"That's right, mate," Ron said with a nod. "A prefect who plans to ask the Head Girl to marry him."

This time Harry didn't answer at all, and Ron frowned. He propped himself on his elbows to look at Harry. There was a rather large grin on his face, and Ron felt his own lips pull to match it.

"Really, mate?" Harry asked at long last.

"Not a force on earth will stop me," Ron said, his blue eyes twinkling.

Harry shot up and tackled Ron with a hug. "That's great, mate! My two best friends getting _married!_"

Ron laughed and patted Harry on the back. "I haven't asked _yet,_ which means she hasn't said _yes_ yet!"

Harry pulled back and looked at him incredulously. "Do you _honestly_ think she'd tell you no? She's not daft! She loves you . . . then again . . "

Ron pinched Harry's side, and he cursed, shoving Ron on the bed as he stood from it. "That'll teach you to bad-mouth me!"

"It was just a little pinch!" Harry said, even as he rubbed his side.

"I learned it from my mum! Why else do you think Fred and George run away from her hands?"

"They have low tolerance for pain," Harry deadpanned.

Ron opened his mouth to retort, then shut it. It was true; Fred and George could be really big babies when they got hurt, especially when it came to their mum. One would think with all the explosions they encountered, they'd withstand pain better. Then again, there was no explosion that could compare to Molly Weasley.

_Speaking of Fred . . ._

"Forget them! Can I borrow your cloak or not?"

Harry raised his eyebrows. "I don't know if I should—after all, you _did_ pinch me rather hard."

"Please, Harry, it's important."

He regarded Ron for a moment. "When do you plan on asking her?"

Ron smiled. "New Year's Eve . . . the anniversary of our first kiss is actually Christmas, but New Year's is the beginning of change . . . and next year, there'll be change for the better."

Harry looked mildly surprised. "I wouldn't think you'd be the kind of bloke to remember those sorts of things."

Ron looked at him smugly. "Don't be jealous because I have a girlfriend with _whom_ to remember 'those sorts of things!'" Harry's face fell at the barb, and Ron realized how insensitive he made have sounded. "Harry . . . I'm—"

"Telling the truth," Harry sighed as he sat on the bed again.

"Doesn't make it less insensitive."

Harry offered him a small smile before looking at his fingernails. "One would think a bloke who's met and survived Voldemort could ask a girl to a _dance!_"

Ron bit his lip, and his brows furrowed. His mind drifted to the conversation he shared with Nia earlier. "Maybe . . . you shouldn't go to the dance at all."

Harry looked at him incredulously. "What?"

"Am I correct in assuming you'd want to go with Nia?" Harry blushed but nodded affirmatively. "And don't you think people would find it odd you're taking, for all intents and purposes, the _best_ friend of your sworn school enemy?"

"I don't care about that—"

"You should care. People are watching your every move, Harry, _especially_ now, after that attack on Hogsmeade. You know they're looking for Nia. What better way to present her to Voldemort and the rest of the Dark Side than by going with _her_?" The look of disappointment on Harry's face tugged at his heart, and he wished his friend didn't have to catch most of the bad breaks in life. Suddenly chuckling could be heard, and Ron looked at Harry with curiosity. "What's so funny?"

Harry's smile was wistful, yet slightly amused. "Hermione's had a good effect on you, mate. Seems some of her cleverness has worn off on you."

Ron gave a half-smile. "That can't be good; means she caught some of my daftness."

"Believe me, mate, it's a good thing. Balance is good. Ying and yang, that sort of thing."

"And what's more ying and yang than a Slytherin and a Gryffindor, hmm?"

Harry snorted. "The two Houses are more alike than we care to admit."

"That may be, but the approach is different. We go in, wands blazing, for courage and bravery at all costs. Slytherins are slick and cunning, abandoning ship at the first sign of trouble. A healthy balance of that can make one unstoppable."

Harry quirked an eyebrow. "And _who's_ being profound?"

Ron smiled and crossed his arms at his chest. "I had a discussion with Nia before I came up here . . . talking to her made me realize it."

Harry bit his lip and looked at his hands again. "Oh?"

Ron glanced at the ceiling before looking at Harry. "It seems probable she's not going to the dance, either." He saw when the proverbial light bulb came on in Harry's head, and they shared a grin. "Follow me?"

"Down the yellow brick road," Harry said, jumping from his bed and going through his trunk.

Ron got up as well and gathered all the necessary items for the trip. "Eh?"

Harry shook his head and waved the comment away. "Never mind, mate. It's from a famous Muggle movie . . . Ask Hermione about it; she's probably read the book, too."

"No doubting that," Ron muttered. Suddenly something very heavy draped over his head, and his body gave a bit under the weight.

"Better hurry and leave before Hermione gets back. Even if you're invisible, she'll probably find you and then never let you leave," Harry said wisely, then waved and gave him a wink.

"Good call, mate, and thanks!"

Harry nodded. "You helped me; why shouldn't I return the favor? Besides . . . you'll let me see the ring first, won't you?"

"Not before me," Ron said, his tone teasing.

Harry shook his head and closed the trunk. "See you later, mate."

Ron waved, though he knew Harry couldn't see it, and left the room. His steps were light as he left the common room and eventually the castle. He walked a few meters beyond Hagrid's hut to the very edge of the Forbidden Forest. He shuddered slightly, remembering second year and his brush with Hagrid's "pet" spider.

"Bloody nightmare," Ron muttered before pulling out his wand. He closed his eyes and concentrated on his destination, and with a pop, he left the Forbidden Forest.

Unfortunately, he was greeted with a sight he _knew_ to be forbidden.

"AAAH!"

"_What the bloody hell!"_

There was much shouting and screaming going on, and Ron whimpered, closing his eyes and turning away from the sight. It was done so quickly he slipped on a gag banana peel—guaranteed slippage of whoever stepped on it.

Ron barely registered his fall, so great was his shock. One should _never_ walk in on his brother doing . . . _things_ with his girlfriend—even if it was on the checkout counter of their joke shop after closing.

"Who's there?" his brother bellowed as he pulled up his pants.

Ron was crouched in a corner, rocking back and forth as he chanted, "Take me to a happy place," over and over.

"Ron?"

"I'msorryI'msorryI'msorry," he murmured, his mantra changing once directly addressed.

"You're supposed to meet Fred _upstairs,_ you tosser! You need to learn to read letters more thoroughly," George said, extremely irate about being…interrupted.

Ron got over his embarrassment and glared at his brother. "And _you_ need to learn to find a _bedroom!_"

"Where's the fun in that?" George said with a wink. Ron shuddered and Apparated to the twins' flat, which was above the joke shop.

Fred was sitting on the sofa, his elbows on his thighs as he cradled his chin. He looked up when Ron popped into the room and grinned. "Hullo, Ronniekins."

"You're a complete waste of human space, and you're a great big, pratty git."

Ron knew he read the letter correctly, which stated to meet Fred _in_ the joke shop. His brothers merely had twisted minds.

"I take it you didn't like my surprise?" Fred said in mock disappointment.

Ron rolled his eyes and huffed. "It's times like these when I wonder what _god_ I cheesed off to make me the younger brother of _you two_."

"Cheesed off? Ronnie, you should consider it a _blessing!_" Fred said as he stood and gave his brother an enthusiastic hug.

"That's a view," Ron said dryly, his head bobbing back and forth from Fred's rough shaking.

"And what a lovely view it was, wasn't it?"

Ron shoved himself out of Fred's grasp and glared at his older brother. "You're such a pain."

"The _very _'such a pain' who is _helping_ you buy an _engagement ring_ for your beloved. Don't think you want to make me mad, mate."

Ron settled for another glare and sighed. "Where are we going?"

"Actually, to a Muggle shop. I've already converted the galleons into pounds—we get more for our money in the Muggle World."

"But doesn't wizard jewelry have—"

"Relax! It's better if you get the gems raw anyway; you can personalize your spells, and the charms last longer and are more effective. Jamilah and Nia are going to help us with it," Fred said, patting Ron's shoulder.

Ron stared at a stain on the carpet and burrowed his eyebrows. "Speaking of Nia . . she said go opal."

"Angel's birthstone—good call. I'm gonna _love_ having her as a sister-in-law!" He transformed his robes into a Muggle coat, and Ron followed suit. "Ready?"

Ron nodded, and they both Apparated in front of a Muggle jewelry store.

"Nia also says Draco and Ginny plan to marry soon after her birthday." He grinned evilly and walked inside the store as he heard the desired reaction from Fred.

"I'm gonna _hate_ having him as a brother-in-law!"


	10. Ten

_Ten****_

"Lucius approached me after the meeting tonight," Snape said, holding his wrists, vainly trying to still his tremors.

"I think . . . perhaps Voldemort's hold on the man is waning."

Severus looked at Dumbledore with interest.  "Voldemort's hold?"

Dumbledore merely gazed at him, and by the tilt of his head, Severus knew the older wizard was deep in thought.  "It would only be a matter of time before it would."

Severus still didn't know what the headmaster meant, but he thought it was a moot point anyway.  "What does it matter now?  Draco hates his father, especially after what happened in relation to Miss Weasley."

Dumbledore straightened.  "And as _you_ know, Lucius was nothing more than a pawn, used to make sure Draco's destiny never fully came into fruition.  Set knows he's lost, and Thanatos will not waste his time with useless people.  Lucius had his directive, and he failed.  The elder Malfoy will be discarded soon."

Severus shook his head.   "Lucius has no one; even Narcissa wants nothing to do with him."

"They were never going to get together had it not been for Thanatos, and if they hadn't been together, Draco would not have been born.  Everything happens for a reason, Severus."

Now Severus was truly confused.  "Wouldn't it have been easier to keep Draco from being born?  One less reincarnate to consider."

Dumbledore smirked.  "Set is nothing if not arrogant.  He wanted Osiris to serve _him, _to taste how Set felt all those millennia ago.  He wanted Osiris to pay."

Severus frowned.  "Is Set really so petty?  He could have made his acquisition of power easy for himself, but he wanted to settle a grudge?"

"There go your Slytherin sensibilities, Severus.  Set is a hot-blooded, vengeful man.  So is Voldemort.  That makes them dangerous yet reckless—a very dire combination."

"And a bitch to get rid of."

Dumbledore gave him a reproachful look but let the comment slide.  "How are you feeling?"

Severus glowered at a spot past Dumbledore.  "Peachy."

He could feel Dumbledore's eyes on him, studying his posture and his expression.  "All things considered, I wager?"

Severus took deep breaths as the last of the tremors left his body.  The Cruciatus Curse had been particularly mild this meeting, something that caused him great alarm.  He knew it was only a matter of time before being found out, but he couldn't help but wonder if Voldemort knew and was only keeping him to play games.  At the moment there was no planned attack against any Muggles or Muggle-borns, and Severus thought the decision to keep all the students at Hogwarts played a major role in that.

Besides, it was the season of Death Eater inductions, and all of the candidates were under lock and key in Hogwarts.

_Speaking of which . . ._

"Crabbe knows something."

Dumbledore's eyes remained fixed on the coffee table's leg, but Severus knew he heard the comment.  "Oh?"

Severus crossed his legs and folded his hands on top of his knee.  "He's always been suspicious of Nia's relationship to Draco, and now with the two instances of Draco blatantly working against Voldemort, Crabbe thinks she has something to do with it."

"But he has no knowledge of the reincarnations, does he?"

Severus shook his head.  "Probably not, but he's not as stupid as he wants people to believe.  Nia has entirely too much influence on Draco.  He was to be the bright and shining star of the Dark, not the Light."

"Bred for service of Voldemort, and consequently Set.  Too bad the jackal god is denied once again," Dumbledore said without a hint of remorse.

Severus ran his tongue across his teeth and shrugged.  "He almost wasn't."

"Almost doesn't count."

Indeed it didn't.  A lot of things _almost_ happened, but "almost" was always conditional, always a runner-up to things that _were._  As long as Voldemort and Set "almost" won, there was always a possibility they _wouldn't.  _Nothing was absolute as long as "almost" remained.

"What did Lucius want to know?" Dumbledore asked.

Severus licked his lips and sighed before answering.  "He asked how his son was, but unlike the contempt he held before, there was a measure of pride in his voice."

Dumbledore smiled.  "Voldemort _is_ losing control, then.  One would hardly think after almost thirty years of influence, Lucius finally decided to grow a backbone."

"He's lost everything, even after Voldemort promised it to him.  Slytherins know when to abandon a sinking ship," Severus said dryly.

"Even if said ship is among the most powerful Dark forces in the world, I suppose."

"Especially then.  There's nothing in which to bask if there is no light to shine.  How I wish this could have all been avoided."

"But as I said, everything happens for a reason."

The younger man nodded.  "Yes, but it is not as easy to forgive those happenings."

Dumbledore fell quiet again, and his fingers formed a steeple.  "Point taken," he said after a while.  "Forgiveness is a rare commodity for a Slytherin, especially a Malfoy."

Severus snorted and raised his eyebrows.  "So much for Christmas cheer . ."

Dumbledore chuckled and stood.  "Oh, Severus, there is much to celebrate, actually.  The beginning of the end is near for Voldemort, and he knows it.  Lucius will kowtow no longer; he sees the purpose his son has, and if Lucius cares for anything, it's power."

"You think he'd really defect from the Dark side?"

Dumbledore shook his head.  "No, he wouldn't.  He's too far gone for that.  But I suspect he'll finally be the father Draco's always wanted him to be."

Severus couldn't stomp the jealousy he felt.  Through all these years, especially since Draco entered Hogwarts, Snape had appointed himself surrogate father to the young Malfoy, an appointment he didn't take lightly.

"And how, dear headmaster, do you propose Lucius will do that?"

"Giving Draco his blessing."

Severus scowled.  "And why do you think Draco would want it?"

Dumbledore smiled.  "Despite the immense hatred and betrayal he feels, Draco loves his father.  He can't help it.  When he looks into the mirror, he sees Lucius—he can't help _but_ see it.  Draco can wish him pain, death, or even a Dementor's Kiss, but you will notice he stayed far away from Lucius during the battle at Hogsmeade, and he from Draco."

Severus rolled his eyes.  "I wouldn't know; I wasn't there."

"But you heard," Dumbledore said, chastising Severus with his eyes.  Severus shrank at the admonishment, if only a little.  He knew it was too dangerous to fight—for the Dark or for the Light, and he convinced Voldemort of it.  As a professor, his duty was to his students, and if he wished to remain a professor, he would stay out of it.

Regardless if McGonagall, Dumbledore, and Jamilah fought in it.

"Even despite the evils committed by his father," Dumbledore continued, "Draco can't abandon him.  He still holds on to hope that _maybe_, despite what everyone says, even despite Lucius himself, Draco will find the father he always wanted in him."

"That's a rather large hope."

Dumbledore closed his eyes briefly before responding, his blue eyes twinkling.  "And what is the world without hope, Severus?"

The headmaster left before Severus could respond.  He cursed, wishing Dumbledore would stop being so vague right when he needed to be his clearest.  Every time he thought he understood something, Dumbledore would give him a reality check, which stated he understood _nothing._

"What's your angle, Albus?" Severus muttered aloud.  He needed to find out and soon.  Things were getting more precarious, and it was only a matter of time before he would be ousted and killed for his indiscretions.  Admittedly, he was surprised no one had done it yet, and he figured they were all just biding time until the right moment.

Severus hoped the moment came quickly or not at all.

As it was, his life outside the Death Eaters' circle was increasingly tense, with the subtle change in dynamic within his House.  Draco had fallen out of favor with many of the students, especially within his year, and few stood by him.  Of course he still commanded respect, for lack of a better term, but he was given it with far more suspicion and resentment.  Neither Draco nor anyone else in the House was stupid; they all knew what happened the summer before the current school term and what Draco's stand meant.  It meant he would not follow the Dark Lord, and to many, that made Draco a traitor.

There were few who stood beside him—Gregory Goyle and Blaise Zabini among the most prominent—but Vincent Crabbe and Pansy Parkinson made it clear they wanted nothing more to do with him, though Severus suspected Parkinson's reasoning was more along the lines of a jilted girlfriend than anything having to do with Voldemort.

Speaking of Crabbe, Severus had been keeping an eye on him ever since Nia's attack against him, though he suspected their altercation was a bubbling up of tension long nursed over Nia's first year at Hogwarts.  The moment the Sorting Hat called Slytherin, there was a healthy amount of distrust in young Crabbe's eyes.  Severus stored the reaction away, but now he wondered if he should have put more focus on it.  Of course Nia hadn't said anything about foul behavior coming from Crabbe, but she was prone to keep things to herself until she couldn't any longer.  It was also uncanny Crabbe would be the one who instigated Nia's first showing.

_Perhaps . . . perhaps Voldemort _knows_ who Nia is, but refuses to tell Set?  Crabbe is Voldemort's ace, just as Lucius was in regards to Draco._

As much as Severus wanted to dismiss the notion, he couldn't.  Thanatos and Set never did get along, only united in the desire to destroy Osiris and rule the world.  Thanatos also wasn't stupid, but he was hasty.  He knew Set would probably destroy him once they won, and Thanatos played his own hand.  Severus didn't put it past Voldemort to do the same.

_Which probably explains why I'm still alive . . wonderful._

He hated being a pawn, but Severus knew this was all one enormous chess game, and he was but a piece to be played.  The King and Queen were Harry and Nia respectively, and even a pawn could prove to be fatal.  _Humph.  I'm no pawn . . . I'll be a rook . . ._

He snorted at his own childish, petty thought, but he felt he deserved to be juvenile on occasion.

Much as his daughter should.

Her childhood was ripped away the moment she set foot on Hogwarts grounds; actually, if he was honest, before then, when her mother died.  But she greeted her new role with a fortitude that would rival the greatest of Gryffindors, though she was a Slytherin at heart.  Her latest feat still had him reeling, however.  What she was able to do for Draco was nothing short of miraculous . . . it was really her first test as Isis' heir.  She passed with flying colors, and Severus could not have been prouder.

_Too bad she has many more._

Draco's resurrection was merely the tip of the iceberg, and Severus felt a wariness that made him extremely uncomfortable.  He was of the mind to tell Pettigrew who Nia _was,_ thinking it would be better to get Nia out in the open rather than do something which could unwittingly put her in harm's way.

That was why Crabbe was so dangerous.  He could expose Nia before _anyone_ was prepared, and being caught unawares by Voldemort and Set would lead to disaster.  It wasn't as if Nia didn't _know_ about her desirability.  With Harry and Draco always around, she couldn't help but be aware of it.  What she didn't know was the why.  She thought it was for her powers, but it was more than that . . . much more . . . and neither Snape nor the other men in her life would allow Set to get it . . . .

Which brought up the issue of the dance they were having in a week's time.  New Year's Eve, the night he'd been dreading since the Granger girl and Draco decided to have a _dance_ to keep the students' mind off war.

_Right._What that meant was a bunch of pre-pubescent and pubescent teenagers writhing and grinding against each other in _their_ version of dancing, and it also meant a bunch of little snots staring at _his daughter_ in a most inappropriate way.

Severus wasn't blind; he saw the looks boys were sending his daughter.  He remembered when he _was_ one of those little snots staring at her mother—they were almost spitting images of each other.  Severus also knew there were many Siriuses at Hogwarts now, who would _love_ a chance to get their grimy little hands on her.

Not on his watch, they wouldn't.  "She shan't be going to this little . . . _dance . ._" he said as he scowled into the fire.

"Oh, _that's_ mature!" came a voice from behind him.

"Speaking of snots," Severus muttered.  His eyes remained fixed on the fire even as the other man took the seat Dumbledore vacated earlier.

"You need a tissue, Sevvie?"

Severus glared at him.  "One big enough to wipe you away would be nice."

Black laughed heartily as he placed his right ankle on his left knee.  "You're such a daddy!"

Severus rolled his eyes.  It was just too easy sometimes.

"So . . . gonna let Harry take her?"

Severus felt a splitting headache coming on—one that would make the Cruciatus feel as if he'd just stubbed his toe.  "Take her?"

Sirius sucked his teeth.  "To the dance, halfwit!  You know they should go together."

"There are a lot of things people _should_ do; doesn't mean they _do,_" Severus said in an ornery manner.  "Besides, it's the week before the dance.  If Potter wanted to take my daughter, he would have asked her long before now."

Black rolled his eyes.  "It's time to get rid of this grudge you have against Harry.  Let sleeping dogs lie and—"

It was as if Black _waited_ for the barb this time, and Severus snorted.  "Too easy," was all the Potions Master said.

Black quirked an eyebrow and continued his spiel. "Anyway, let the kids have some fun.  May be the only time they do in a long while.  Don't deny them this, Snape."

Severus gave him a blank look before replying.  "Do you realize the repercussions of such an act?  Harry Potter going to the dance with a _girl,_ especially a _Slytherin_?  It will be all over the wizarding world within the hour, and Nia will no longer be a secret."

Black was quiet for a moment before he shrugged.  "Well, she can't _not_ go to the dance!  Find her a nice Slytherin boy to go with . . . if there is such a thing . . ."

Once again Severus held his tongue.  He must be in a particularly good mood to not say something smarting . . . ironic, considering he had just left a Death Eater meeting . . . Perhaps it was just good to have something _familiar_ in the midst of all the change, and he wanted to savor it for a moment.  Sirius Black was a constant, a constant Severus desperately needed to keep his right mind.  Even Dumbledore, for all his steadfastness, had the ability to make Severus wary, but Black was predictable as ever.  _I never thought I'd think of the blighter in a good light . . . then again, I didn't think I would like James Potter, either._

It all started when Potter saved his life from Black's prank.  Severus was angry—angry at Lupin for being a werewolf, angry at Black for putting him in danger of said werewolf, but most of all, he was angry at Potter for saving his life.  It meant his indebtedness, and he resented Potter for it.

He'd concocted this wild scheme that the Marauders orchestrated the entire thing _just so_ Severus owed Potter something.  Admittedly his teenage brain only thought of cleverly petty things, but at the time it seemed a sound argument.  It wasn't until _years_ later, after the first attack Voldemort made against them, Severus realized the heroism was genuine and without machinations.  Potter truly didn't want Severus to die, and he felt Black took the prank a step too far.  Though, of course, it took Malika _yelling _it into his head, but he figured better late than never.  This realization led to a grudging respect from _both_ parties, and if he would every fully admit it to himself, the beginning of a _small_ yet powerful friendship.

They couldn't be seen in public together, but they shared many fascinating conversations, especially since they were among the few members of the Order around their age who were of long, pureblood family lines.  Lily was Muggle-born and did not care much for wizarding family politics, and Malika . . she was beyond the trivial matters of whose ancestors fought with Merlin, considering _her_ ancestors were around before _Merlin was even born!_

_Fate is a funny thing._

His Slytherin classmates dismissed her as nothing more than a nigger Mudblood, and therefore not even worth a taunt.  She was ignored, blatantly so, but he could never do it.  He could never ignore those golden eyes that seemed to shine brighter when she looked at him than when she didn't.  All of his peers tried to dissuade him against the match, even so far as to bring his _father_ into it.

Severus shuddered uncontrollably.  Aurelius Antonius Snape was a hardnosed man, fully involved in the politics and propriety of European wizarding society.  He knew every single family's crest, their past and present alliances, and who would be an appropriate wife for his only son.

_Apparently the descendant of a goddess wasn't "appropriate" enough._

Severus chuckled at the irony of it all.  Aurelius had been so consumed by her Muggle upbringing, class, creed, and color he hadn't even _suspected_ her true heritage.  Then again, he wondered if it would have made a difference to his father in the end.

Severus' father, for all of his research, never bothered with other forms of magic, thinking Europe was the premier community and therefore the only one worthy of his consideration.  Aurelius never realized European magic derived from other cultures, and these other cultures were offshoots of African magic: the Egyptian gods and goddesses.

_Malika_.  _Nia_.

Severus sighed and shook his head.  Nia would never come into her full powers until she consummated her love for the Potter boy . . and while she was _definitely_ too young to do that, she wasn't too young for the bloke to take her to the dance.  Besides, Potter needed to "lighten up," as Nia said.

"Have you been listening to anything I've said?"

Black's voice interrupted his musings, and he glared at the other man.  "I'm sure it was unimportant and not worth my time."

Black's lip curled, and Severus had to stomp down a grin.  "You're impossible as usual."

Severus smiled, a rare genuine one.  "Who am I to disappoint?"

"Severus Snape.  The very name is synonymous with disappointment."

Severus glared at him.  "One could say Sirius Black is, as well."

Black clenched his jaw but said nothing in response to that.  "So did you at least hear the first thing I said?"

"Refresh my memory."

Black sighed heavily.  "About Harry and Nia."

Severus shook his head.  "It's still a bad idea.  If they go, they should go alone.  No use in raising suspicion."

"That hardly seems fair!"

Severus looked mildly sympathetic.  "Life's not fair.  You know it as well as I do."

Black raised his eyebrows quickly.  "You have a point there."  He shifted in his seat, so he hunched over his knees.  His blue eyes met Severus' black ones.  "I just want the kid to be happy, you know?  He's my _godson,_ for Merlin's sake!  He deserves to have as much of a normal childhood as we can possibly give him—"

"He'll never get that as long as his name is Harry Potter," Severus interrupted.

Black nodded.  "That may be, but that doesn't mean we can't make _some_ sort of an effort.  Our charges are to be together, and unfortunately, that means I have to make nice to your sniveling self."

"It's no walk in the park for me either, Black."

Black shook his head and sat straight again.  "As long as we're on the same page . . . I'm just asking for one small, little dance.  That's all."

Severus raised a perfectly arched eyebrow.  "Why does this matter so much to you?"

Black gave a small, sad smile, all pretense of bravado gone.  "A Roberts woman is someone special . . . I don't want Harry to lose out on her."

* * *

He hated dances with a burning _passion._  They were annoying, petty, and just downright _uncomfortable._  Though he knew, intellectually, this dance was as low key as the post game celebrations in the common room, there was a key difference between now and then.

_She_ was going to be there.  She, with her golden eyes, and mocha skin, and dimples that made him melt every time he saw them . . .

It was enough to kill a man.

"I don't wanna go!" he whined into his pillow.

He could sense his best mate rolling his eyes before two rather large hands shoved at his sides, causing him to fall ungracefully to the floor.  "Get your sorry arse up and ready!  We have a _dance_ to get to!  Besides, it would seem suspicious if neither you _nor_ Nia were there—"

"You're the one who suggested I _didn't_ go!"

"Changed my mind."

"Or rather Hermione and Ginny changed it for you."

Ron snorted, and Harry could almost feel the other boy smirk.  "Either way, you're going."

Harry glared at the ground before standing to pin said glare on a certain tall redhead.  "Go to hell!"

"Right after I ask Hermione to marry me, and she says yes, and we get married and have two Quidditch teams of kids and—"

"She kills you, because there's no way you're going to convince her to have fourteen of your children!"

"She better not have fourteen of anyone else's!"

Harry snorted and shook his head, taking his towel from his bed frame.  "What time does this atrocity start?"

Ron snickered as he checked his watch.  "Now, actually."

He rolled his eyes.  "Wonderful.  I'm late.  At least I'm not going with anyone, hmm?"

Ron blushed a bit.  "But I am . . . mind if I duck out now?"

Harry grinned at his friend as he shook his head.  "No, mate.  Go ahead.  You have a very important question to ask your date, anyway."  Harry went over to Ron and gave him a full hug, not the kind where two men for fear of someone doubting their masculinity gave a half-arsed pat on the back.  This was a full body pouring of emotions, a good luck, congratulations, and "I'm always here for you" kind of hug—the kind a brother would give to a brother.

Ron was his brother, regardless that they didn't share the same blood, last name, or hair color.  There was a time when Harry thought in order to make it official he'd have to marry Ginny—not to say that was the major thrust of his crush on the youngest Weasley, but it did influence him greatly.  If Harry had learned anything, it was blood was not the beginning or end all of everything.  The Weasleys considered him one of them as if Molly had birthed him herself.

_Graphic, but endearing.___

Harry knew they would never replace his parents, nor did the Weasleys try; they offered him what was stolen sixteen years ago, and he was more than willing to accept it.  He eyed his new Weasley jumper on his bed; it was one of the many Christmas gifts he had received last week, but perhaps the most special of them all.  The jumper was recognition of him as family.

"I want details of the proposal, mate," Harry whispered in Ron's ear.

Ron laughed and separated.  "You know you'll be the first person to hear the answer, regardless if it's yes or no."

Harry smirked.  "She'll say yes.  She's the cleverest witch in a century!  There's no way she'd turn down the love of her life!"

Ron scowled even as he blushed.  "And when it comes time, I'll be saying the same thing to you in regards to Nia."

"Yeah," he said, more to himself than to Ron.  Harry glanced at the door and tilted his chin to it.  "Better get down there.  If I know Hermione, she's probably down there pacing because of your tardiness.  She _is_ Head Girl, after all; she has to set an example."

Ron scowled and nodded.  "Yeah, yeah, yeah!  I hear you!"  He walked to the door and opened it, turning to face Harry before he left.  "You _are_ coming to the dance, aren't you?"

"If I don't, you'll come up here and drag me down . . . I fancy going there by my own volition."

Ron nodded once.  "Good.  See you there."

"Maybe not . . . I have a feeling you have a celebration to attend," Harry said with a wink.  Ron merely rolled his eyes and shook his head as he left the room.

Harry sighed; he figured he should make the grooming quick, for he wouldn't put it past Hermione to climb up the boys' stairs only to drag him down there.

_Or worse, Ginny.___

Harry shuddered at the thought and prepared himself to shower.  He turned on the water, made quick work of his clothes and stepped underneath the kneading, warm spray.  For a moment he let himself soak, allowing his skin to absorb each, individual droplet of water as if it were a personal masseuse sent to work his worries away.  As he fell under the shower's spell, his mind drifted back to almost two months ago when he and Nia found the Room with the gods and what transpired there.

_Well, what _almost_ transpired there,_ he thought with slight aggravation.  He almost kissed her, and he wanted to curse himself for it.  She was really in no position for his aggressiveness, and he felt like the scum of the earth for almost taking advantage of her vulnerability.

_Gryffindor grime . . . that was her first insult to me . ._

Funny how he thought of it now with endearment, but at the time, those were fighting words, and he was more than willing to oblige her, regardless if she was new, foreign, and a first time witch.  Well, goddess, as he'd now realized.

Unlike him, Ginny, and Malfoy, she was actually a _goddess,_ descended from Isis herself but outside of divinity.  Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, went and fell in love with a _goddess_ of all people!  He wondered why the Fates gave him the most difficult of tasks—eliminate a Dark Lord, go through puberty, try to keep your hormones in check around a teenage goddess who, for all intents and purposes, _should_ not enter a relationship at that moment in time _and_ who happened to belong to his rival House.

_Oh yes, fate has a sense of humor._

But he was far from laughing when he stood there, his hands at her hips, watching her lick her lips in nervousness . . . or anticipation.  He couldn't help himself.  He had to know how she tasted, and since the first contact of his lips against her forehead, he was addicted.

Nia was sweeter than honey, even though he could taste the salt of her perspiration.  Her skin was smooth, the color of a chocolate frog, and he prayed to the gods she wouldn't jump away as that first one did back when he was a first year on the Hogwarts Express.  She trembled like a leaf, and he wanted to hold her close to him, to feel her body pressed against his in a way which stopped her shaking and molded them into one.  Those honey colored eyes were bright, a sheen of tears over them, but she closed her eyes and bowed her head.

Harry knew she did it so he couldn't see the fear in her eyes, but he did.  She said herself she was scared, and Harry couldn't understand why.

Actually, that was a lie; he knew _exactly_ why Nia was scared.  He was scared himself, but he was of the House of Gryffindor, and it was his _job_ to squash that fear and do what had to be done.

And he had to kiss her, then.  It was as vital as breathing.

He kissed all along her face, felt her harsh breaths exhale, hitting his cheek, felt the rapid beat of her heart, matching the pace of his own, against his lips when he kissed the skin under her ear.

Harry felt her experience what he was feeling, and he had hope.  He made her open her eyes, told her not to be afraid, and was a half-second from those beautiful lips when—

Malfoy's salvation was ready.

He never hated Draco Malfoy more than right then, and he felt slightly vindicated when Apedemak and Aset shared his sentiment.  It was irrational, of course, but Malfoy was an easy target at the time, with him being dead and the like.  But Malfoy's death forced Harry to realize he really _didn't_ have all the time in the world.  He'd been fawning over the age and House issue between him and Nia long enough, and that was something which would never change.  She would always be three years younger; she would always be a Slytherin.  And she would always be the love of his life.

Those were the absolutes of it all, and it was in his best interest to square with that.

He'd made great progress in that arena, making sure to be much more affectionate with her, but in such a way as wouldn't send her screaming to the hills.  She blushed a lot more because of it, and Harry prided himself in obtaining that reaction from her.  The flying lessons had been key, though he was a bit sad they'd graduated to personal brooms.  He rather liked wrapping his arms around her waist as they flew higher and higher to the heavens—

Harry shuddered and blushed, looking quickly at _his_ "upgraded" personal broomstick.  _Dammit__!  Think of Snape dancing naked in a tea cozy during dinner!  _It had the desired effect, and he sighed.  Damn his body for having such _inappropriate_ reactions whilst thinking of Nia, and damn the other boys for theirs!__

Dean's proposal to ask Nia to the dance irked him incessantly, and he knew his roommate was merely one of a rather _large_ number of boys . . . and maybe girls . . . who wanted to claim Nia.  Ron admitted to him later Ginny put Dean up to it, but Harry knew Dean would've asked had he _not_ been offered Weasley wares.

The reminder there was a dance going on right now where Nia was and he _wasn't_ was all the motivation Harry needed to get out of the shower and change quickly.  He gave himself a brief once over in the mirror, only running a hand through his perpetually messy hair, and hastily went downstairs to the Great Hall.  

As soon as he went inside, his eyes were drawn to her.  She wasn't dressed in anything fancy—just a green turtleneck and black slacks.  Her hair was pulled high on her head, leaving a fluffy ponytail to swish and sway along with the rest of her body—

Pressed against his currently former friend Dean Thomas.

Harry's eyes zeroed in on Thomas's hand curled at her waist, and he wanted nothing more than to beam it off of her.  Only _his_ hands were allowed to touch her so intimately!  He chose to ignore the fact he and Nia weren't dating, for it got in the way of his righteous possessiveness.  The music and people fell away from his awareness, and he marched towards the dancing couple.

A hand on his arm stopped his progress, but he didn't face the intruding figure.  "Let go of me!"

"Temper, temper, Potter . . . one might think you were . . . _jealous . . ._"

Harry sighed; he didn't need this aggravation at the moment.  "Sod off, Malfoy!"

"You should know Thomas means nothing to her."

Harry didn't want to admit the declaration made him feel better.  "Really?"

Malfoy smirked, and Harry had the distinct feeling he'd walked into a trap.  "Of course not.  He's about her fourth dance partner . . ."

Harry knew it was innocent on her part, but Malfoy's tone rubbed him the wrong way, and Malfoy knew it.  "You're a bloody, bratty prat."

"This 'bloody, bratty prat' is saving you from an extremely embarrassing confrontation.  I don't think Little One would take too kindly your jealousy."

The wanker had a point, and Harry scowled at it.  He hated when Malfoy was logical, for usually it put unwanted kinks in his plans.  "Go away," he said lamely, glancing at Malfoy.  Malfoy merely smirked at him, and Harry felt his anger rise.  Then again, he didn't know if it was because of Malfoy, or the fact that _another_ suitor made his way toward Nia—and now it was a slow song.

"Goyle, for your information.  Don't worry though; their friendship is strictly platonic."

Once again, Malfoy's explanation made him feel a relief he had no right to feel.  "Why are you telling me this?"

Malfoy snorted, and Harry was compelled to face him.  "Because . . . I've had to suffer a few moments without Ginny . . . and these are the things I keep telling myself so I won't rip someone a new one."

Harry's eyes scanned the crowd, and sure enough Ginny was dancing with Justin Finch-Fletchley, who, if Harry was honest with himself, was _entirely_ too close to his best friend's baby sister.

"You see it, too, then," Malfoy said, without any hint of emotion.

Harry glared at him, not feeling at all sympathetic.  "At least _you_ can do something about it!  For better or worse, Ginny's your girlfriend.  You can tell her to move away from him."

Malfoy gave him a look that clearly asked, _are you daft?_  "You just want to see me flying across the Great Hall!  I don't fancy myself getting blasted because of my insane need to keep her close to me at all times.  I trust Ginny—"

"I wouldn't trust these wankers with my _shoe_, let alone my woman."

Malfoy raised a perfectly arched eyebrow.  "Ah . . . see, there's the difference between me and you.  There is a clear demarcation between Ginny and every other bloke here.  They _know_ she's my woman and I'm her man.  They wouldn't _dare_ stand in the way of that, no matter how much of a git they think I am."

Harry eyed Justin and Ginny again, snorting.  "I wouldn't be too fast to make that claim, mate.  Justin looks ready to put the moves on your girl."

Malfoy brushed the couple away as inconsequential.  "I'm not talking about _me;_ I'm talking about Ginny.  Ginny knows where she stands with me, and I with her.  _She_ won't let anyone come between us, no matter how much of a git they think I am."

"And I can guarantee you're _much_ more of a git than they think you are."

Malfoy chuckled.  "Why, Potter . . . I didn't think you noticed . . ."  He batted his eyes in a most disturbing matter, and Harry couldn't help but grin.  He wouldn't _dare _utter this aloud, but Malfoy wasn't nearly as bad as he was when he first met him.  The removal of his father as an influence, as well as the reincarnation and death Malfoy experienced made him . . . _tolerable_.  If Harry weren't careful, he could feel the word "mate" coming out of his mouth while talking to Malfoy.

The thought was disturbing.

"You're always around; why _wouldn't_ I notice?" he said finally, turning his attention back to Nia and Goyle.  A grin formed on his face at the pair.  Nia was far too small to fully wrap her arms around him, so her hands stopped at the side of his waist.  Goyle had his arms around her shoulders, but from where Harry stood, it seemed more of a protective measure than anything.

Alarm bells rang in his head.  Why would Nia need protecting?  "Malfoy?"  The blonde grunted but did not reply.  Harry turned to Justin and Ginny, who, almost annoyed, moved Justin's hands up to her waist.  Harry raised an eyebrow at the clearly put out Malfoy, but he continued with his question.  "What's up with Goyle, and why does it seem as though he's shielding Nia from something?"

Malfoy seemed a bit perturbed Harry took him from his stakeout of his girlfriend and her dance partner's happy fingers, but he looked over to Nia and Goyle nevertheless.  His blonde brows furrowed, and he shrugged.  "I don't know, Potter, but he does seem to be on the lookout for _something._"

The song changed again, and so did Nia's dance partner.  It was Brandon Jordan, Lee's cousin from Ravenclaw, and a fifth year.  It was an up-tempo song, and they danced exuberantly.  Harry rolled his eyes but kept his jealousy in check.  "This is driving me nutters," he muttered.

"You were already nutters, Potter.  You're only now realizing it."

Harry glared at Malfoy but said nothing.  He still wanted to know what concerned Malfoy's goon so much.

"Draco."

Though his name wasn't called, Harry turned to see Goyle conferring with Malfoy.  The tones were hushed, and Harry strained to hear.  _Why isn't Crabbe with them?  _The other goon seemed less involved with the two, and that bothered Harry immensely.  Harry had a sneaking suspicion he was the one Goyle sought.

"Find him.  Now.  If he gets off the property, there's no telling who he'll go to see."

Goyle gave a short nod at Malfoy's directive before slipping out of the Hall.

Harry curiosity and worry were piqued.  "Lose something?"

"It would be in our best interest to find him . . especially Nia's . . ."

Harry rolled his eyes and curled one hand in a fist.  When would it end?  He looked to Brandon and Nia, who were still dancing.  Her eyes were bright and happy as Brandon twirled her out from him.  Harry briefly wondered where she learned to dance like that.  _Probably Angelina and Fred,_ he thought with a snicker.  That was very _enthusiastic_ dancing they exhibited during the Yule Ball in his fourth year, and with Nia and Brandon both having some sort of relation to the couple, he wouldn't be surprised if they were given a few "pointers."

"Well, aren't they just a happy couple?"

The question was gruff, sarcastic, and sinister, sending cold chills up Harry's spine.  He turned slowly and was met with the sneering face of Malfoy's defected goon Crabbe.

"Where have you been?" Malfoy asked quite plainly.

Crabbe snorted, his sneer more intense.  "I don't answer to you anymore."

"Really?  And why is that?"

"You know why," Crabbe said as his eyes moved to Nia.

Harry's heartbeat sped up; he had a distinct feeling she was in some sort of danger and he was the cause of it.

"She hasn't done anything to you," Malfoy said, his tone blasé, but with a distinct warning in it.

"She removed you from your rightful place, that's what she did!"  Crabbe's eyes were alight with fire, and Harry suspected he was mad.

"Au contraire, Vincent.  She restored me to it."

Crabbe's brown eyes became strained, and Harry could see red lines in the whites of his eyes.  "She _doesn't belong!_  She's nothing but a Mudblood, poor, nigger whore!"

The fist Harry formed rose in an instant, but Malfoy, as the saying went, beat him to the punch.  Crabbe flew to the table, and it came crashing down, the bowl of pumpkin juice spilling all over him.  The music stopped, and students gasped.  Malfoy, however, kept at it, following Crabbe and throwing punch after punch.  It took Harry a minute to register what was happening, and when he did, he had half a mind to let Malfoy continue the pummeling.  However, his Gryffindor instinct won out, and he tried to pull Malfoy off his former friend.

"You know she's a nigger bitch!  Why do you defend her?  She's tainted you!" Crabbe said as Harry pulled Malfoy away.  The blonde went after him again, but Harry's grip was too strong.

"Don't you _ever_ speak of her like that again!  She beat you once; don't think she won't beat you again!  I'm a _Malfoy!_  I align myself with the powerful—_she's_ powerful!"

Now Ginny and Nia appeared, and the redhead took over for Harry.  Her touch had a calming affect as Draco drew her nearer to him.  Crabbe's eyes narrowed dangerously.  "What about the Weasel?  She powerful, too?  It seems, Malfoy, you have a partiality for whores.  How far does she spread her legs?"

Finally Harry's fist was put to some good use.  He felt satisfied when the bones in Crabbe's nose cracked under his fist.

"_Get off of him!_"

Harry was jerked back, and he couldn't hamper the gasp of surprise when he found it was Nia who did it.  "What—"

"_Cool it!  Leave him alone!_" she snarled, her eyes blazing.  "Ginny, take Potter _away._"

"But—"

"He called you by _that_ name!" Draco said, his silver eyes honed in on his former friend.

"And I'd do it again!  Stupid little monkey—"

"Oh, _do shut up!_  I'm sick o' yo' damn mouth!" Nia said to Crabbe.

Crabbe's jaw hung open before he regained his wits . . . what little he had.  "_Who_ do you think you are, you little Mudblood slut!"

"Sticks and stones, Crabbe.  Don't care a lick whatcha gotta say.  I don't understand bullshit."

Crabbe growled and stood ungracefully.  Nia gave him a look of contempt but then turned away from him.  "C'mon, Malfoy, we're goin' for a walk."

"He was my friend first!"

Nia pinned him with a cold stare.  "Yeah?  Well, not anymore.  One would think you have a _crush_ on him!" Nia said.  When a furious Crabbe began to blush, Nia's face was overcome with unadulterated glee.  "And the truth comes out.  You do know Malfoy doesn't swing that way."

Harry looked to Malfoy, who turned positively green.  Ginny was biting her lip, trying desperately not to laugh.

"What is this ruckus?" McGonagall asked as she finally made her way to the group.  Snape was there as well, but his black eyes were trained on Crabbe.

"One hundred fifty points from Slytherin, and detention, Mr. Crabbe," Snape said silkily.  Nia and Malfoy glared at Crabbe, who winced at the punishment.  "My House has to endure taunts all day, and for you to do the same to your own housemate makes you no better than the rest of the Houses—"

"Oi!" Ginny and Harry exclaimed.  Snape turned his eyes to them, and they quit talking.

"But, Professor—"

"No buts, Mr. Crabbe.  Detention . . . and your removal from this dance.  I will personally escort you out."  Snape grabbed Crabbe's forearm, and by the grimace Crabbe made, it was rough.  They walked out of the Hall without a glance to any of the other people.

McGonagall tutted at the destroyed table and, with a flourish of her wand, restored it to its previous state.  "Who started it?" she asked, but her eyes were trained on Malfoy.

He rolled his eyes and sighed.  "I don't expect you to understand why I had to beat the crap out of him, but he called Nia very derogatory names . . . then again, if it's not your precious Gryffindors being taunted, I'm sure you wouldn't care."

McGonagall's eyes grew fierce, and her lips thinned.  "Do not confuse me with your _own_ Head of House, Mr. Malfoy.  Detention for you and Harry, for disturbing the peace and the festivities.  You may stay, but only because Mr. Crabbe deserved what came to him."

Harry rolled his eyes, but he had a new respect for his Head of House.  The punishment was fair, if lenient, for she didn't take any more points from them.  Soon the music was back, and the students resumed dancing.  There was a pat on his arm, and he saw Ginny.  "You okay?" he asked her.

"I'm not the one who was in a fight," she smirked.

"He said some pretty mean things about you," Harry said.

She shrugged.  "So?  Doesn't make them true.  When I have Draco's love and my friends and family, who know the truth, why would I care what he says?  He's just angry I got his man!"

Harry laughed and pulled her into a hug.  "Jealousy is an ugly thing, isn't it?"

She snorted as she pulled away from him.  "You should talk.  Don't think I didn't see the glares you were giving Nia's dance partners."  Harry said nothing, but his blush more than made up for that.  "Go talk to her—it's almost midnight as it is.  She went to the gardens."

Harry smiled at her and kissed her forehead.  "Happy New Year, Gin."

She kissed his cheek.  "Happy New Year!"

"None of that!  Go find your _own_ goddess to kiss!" Malfoy snarled as he put his arm around Ginny's waist.  She snuggled into him happily, and Harry rolled his eyes.

"Happy New Year to you, too," he said half sarcastically.

Malfoy looked into Ginny's eyes, full of promise.  "Oh, it will be; I can guarantee that."

Harry controlled his urge to gag and left the lovey-dovey couple.  He just reached the threshold to the outside when a voice popped in his head.

_~Potter.~_

Harry hesitated.  _~Malfoy?~_

It was a while before the voice sounded again.  _~Thanks . . . for the help . . .~_

Harry grinned, knowing how much it took for Malfoy to be humble.  _~Who said I did it for you?~_

He could actually _feel_ Malfoy roll his eyes.  _~Right.  Wish Nia a Happy New Year for me.~_

The link was closed, and Harry was glad.  The conversation, brief as it was, had a disconcerting quality to it.  It was as if Malfoy was making strides to be _friendly,_ but that would go against every truth Harry had grown to believe during his seven year tenure at Hogwarts.  _Hell, it's the New Year, for Merlin's sake!  Time for change . . ._

Change . . . things had been changing long before now.  Harry wanted things to remain the _same, _if only for a bit.  But he knew that as long as life went on, change would always happen.  The trick was to make it change for the better.

And as he spotted Nia on a stone bench, looking at the stars, he figured his love life should make that first change.

He was halfway to her when her eyes locked with his, and she offered him a small smile.  It was sad as well, and Harry wanted nothing more than to find Crabbe and finish the job he started.  "Hi," he said once he approached her.

"Hi, yourself."

He sat down slowly, his eyes never leaving her person.  "Do you want to talk about it?"

She bit her lip and shook her head.  "Not particularly."

There was a stretch of silence before Harry broke it.  "He's a tremendous, jealous arse, Nia.  Don't think about it."

She laughed hollowly.  "I know that.  I _know_ that!  But what he said . . . what he called me . . . Harry, it's about to be 1998, and people still callin' us that crap!"

He was unfamiliar with Muggle racism, but he knew it was just as fierce as wizarding kind.  For Nia to endure both types broke his heart.  "Don't think about it—"

Nia snorted.  "Easier said than done.  I may not have to think about it, but there are plenty o' people who think it for me.  I'm sure Crabbe ain't the only one here who feels the way he does.  He's just stupid enough to blurt it out in front of Draco."

Harry frowned.  "That wasn't the first time you had a confrontation with him, and something tells me it wasn't even the second . . ."

Nia raised her brows briefly.  "It's been off and on for the past three years."  She shook her head as if trying to rid herself of the memories.  "I don't talk about it, and I don't tell nobody.  It would cause more problems than solutions—"

"But he's calling you those awful things!  He has no right!"

"And me tellin' someone ain't gonna get him to stop, so why bother?  He's a racist, bigot punk, and I'll let him stew in his hatred all by his lonesome.  As long as he thinks I'm unaffected, he'll get the point sooner or later.  Matter fact, this year he's left me alone.  Notice how he didn't come up to me to spout his filth.  I've convinced him I don't care."

"But you _do_ care . . . you care a lot."

Nia rolled her eyes but didn't say anything, turning her attention to a beautiful, red rose bloom.  She fingered it delicately, and Harry's eyes were transfixed.  Nia was like a rose in many respects: beautiful, but with thorns of painful experiences, doubt, vulnerability, and hurt.  She was fragile as the rose as well, but she survived, and she'd continue to do so under the right care.

"Nia," he said, scooting closer to her.  He touched his fingers to her far cheek to turn her eyes to his.  They were a muted gold; all the happiness she was feeling earlier was gone.  If he did nothing else in his life, he would bring that happiness back.

He was about to say something when shouts from the Great Hall stopped him.

"_Ten!  Nine!  Eight!  Seven! . . ._"

"Lord.  We're five seconds away from a new year," she murmured.

"_Three!  Two!  One!  Happy New Year!"_

Harry took a deep breath as strains of _Auld Lang Syne_ filtered into the gardens.

"Well," Nia said on a sigh.  She smiled at him, but Harry thought it forced.  "Happy New Year, Harry Potter."  She made to stand, but he stopped her.  "What?"

"I haven't wished you a Happy New Year yet," he said with a bit of a pout.

He knew Nia was trying to fight the grin threatening to form, but he felt a sense of triumph when he saw she couldn't.  "Well then?"

He smiled as well and bent his head to her.  His progress was steady and sure, and he could feel the fear, uncertainty, and anticipation coming from her.

His lips met her cheek, and her body relaxed tremendously.  "Happy New Year," he whispered.

Right before his lips met hers.


	11. Eleven

_Eleven_

"Ginny-love . . . what's on your mind?"

The redhead smiled at Draco's endearment but did not answer, merely snuggling closer to him as they cuddled together.  Though they saw each other almost everyday, it was rare they could just be together as a couple, rather than training or patrolling partners.  Their time together at school was growing shorter with each passing day, and unlike Ron and Hermione, she would not be leaving Hogwarts when they did.  

She still had a year left.

Draco kissed the top of her head softly and tucked stray locks of hair behind her ear.  "Ginny?"

She sighed and shook her head.  "Just thinking."

Draco snorted.  "I know that, love . . . about what?"

Ginny shrugged.  "About Ron and Hermione."

He sighed as well.  "Tough break with that one, eh?"

Ginny frowned, pulling back slightly to meet his eyes.  "What do you mean by that?"

He smirked, and Ginny knew something unkind was about to come from his mouth.  "She's going to be your new sister-in-law, isn't she?  In America, I think that would be called 'cruel and unusual punishment.'"

"Oh, you!" she chastised, pinching his side before reclining against him again.  Personally, Ginny was happy with the latest development between Ron and Hermione.  Hermione gushed about the proposal the day after it happened, citing how Ron tricked her into going to the Room of Requirement under the guise of a couple sneaking in there for more than a New Year's kiss.

Ginny snorted.  There was more than a New Year's kiss going on in that Room, that was for sure, and, by the blush on Hermione's face as she recounted the proposal, a whole _lot _more.

"Got a cold, love?" Draco asked, half sarcastically.

Ginny shook her head, threading their fingers together as they lay across her stomach.  "Just thinking about how my proposal may go."

Draco began to cough violently, and Ginny controlled the urge to giggle.  "Why are you thinking about that, Ginger?" he asked, once he regained control of himself.

She shrugged.  "I was thinking of Ron's proposal to Hermione.  He tricked her into the Room of Requirement, and when she went inside, he'd recreated the Room to how it looked when he first told her he loved her . . then, apparently, asked her in the same fashion as well.  Isn't it romantic?"

"I sincerely hope that's a rhetorical question," he deadpanned.

She elbowed him gently in the stomach.  "If you're going to be with me, Draco, you're gonna have to be nice to her."

"I sincerely hope you mean only to her face."

Ginny elbowed him again, but a little laugh sounded.  "You're incorrigible!"

"And sexy to match," he said, bending his head to place a kiss behind her ear.

She smiled and leaned into his kiss.  Ever since that magical night that Christmas—a little over a month ago—any touch Draco gave her was full of peace and contentment, instead of anxiousness and heat.  Their magic was now under control as well, and the sessions became shorter—which is why they had the opportunity to just sit and hold each other as they were then.

"I love you," she said softly.

His cool fingers touched her cheek, drawing her face to his.  His gray eyes were calm and contented, and he smiled, bringing his lips to hers.  "I love you too, Ginger."

She closed her eyes to sleep a while, but no sooner had she done so than the door slammed open.

"_Who_ do you think you ARE?!"

Ginny's eyes snapped open in alarm as she saw a clearly irate Nia Roberts stomp in the room, followed by an equally put out Harry Potter.

"You can't _honestly_ tell me you thought he was only 'helping you pick up your books,'" Harry said, placing the phrase in air quotes.  "He was practically staring at your bum!"

Nia's golden eyes flashed menacingly.  "Yeah?  And how would you know that if you weren't lookin' either?"

Harry blushed, and Draco chuckled in Ginny's ear.  "He's in for it, now."

Ginny bit her lip in thought.  While she and Draco were on very good terms, Harry and Nia seemed to get shorter with each other, needing only the smallest slight for one of them to go into a frenzy.

_Almost the same as Ron and Hermione in the early part of their relationship . . . _

Ginny smirked at that revelation, anxious to see how this scene would unfold.

"And besides, what's it to you?  Ain't like we _datin'_ or nothin'!"

It became deadly quiet, and Ginny thought they'd hit the million-galleon question.  She watched how Harry would respond to that, and was disappointed and put out when he spun on his heel and left the room.

Nia growled.

"So much for that Gryffindor courage," Draco muttered sarcastically.

Ginny rolled her eyes and huffed, throwing his arms from around her and standing.  She approached the younger girl and put a hand on her shoulder.  "Nia—"

"I don't wanna hear it, Ginny.  He's just a punk!  I don't even know why I bother," Nia said, shrugging Ginny's hand off her shoulder.  She looked around the room and sighed exasperatedly.  "Where's Grandma?"

Ginny shrugged.  "I think she had to meet Dumbledore about something."

Nia rolled her eyes and crossed her arms before her.  "Dang!  Guess it's gonna wait until the session . . . with that PUNK!"

Ginny jumped at the yell and stole a glance at Draco, who was busy trying to hide his amused grin.

"I _know_ you ain't laughin' at me, Malfoy!"

That caused Draco to affect a look of seriousness, and Ginny grinned.  It would not do well to get an angry Nia on your case.  "I'm not laughing at you, Little One . . . I'm laughing at Potter's obvious denial of what he feels for you," Draco said smoothly . . . so smoothly Ginny almost believed him.

Clearly, however, Nia was less than convinced.  "Right.  And I'm Cleopatra."

"Why be her when you're Isis anyway?"

Nia snorted at his attempt to make her feel better.  "And that gets me what?  Two maniacal gods after me?  I'd rather just have the whole of Rome, _thank you!_"

Ginny snickered at Nia and turned to her.  The anger was gone, replaced with resignation and disappointment.

"I shoulda never let my thoughts get ahead o' me," Nia said sadly.

The redhead was about to respond when Nia stalked out of the room, all the energy and passion she had before, spent.  Ginny looked to Draco, and they shared a moment of silence.

"They are driving me nutters," he said flatly.

Ginny laughed a little, but she couldn't help sharing his sentiments.  Ever since New Year's, Harry and Nia had been at each other's throats.  She knew they shared a kiss—it was impossible not to know, especially when she all but blackmailed Nia into spilling the details.  Ginny saw the happiness in her young friend's eyes and hoped along with Nia it meant Harry finally opened his eyes to the light.  

Instead it seemed he squeezed them tighter than they ever had been.

"I don't see why she has to wait on Four Eyes to make a move.  We all know how long it took for him to realize he liked _you . . ._ oddly enough, after _that_ realization, he moved right in, didn't he?"

Draco said the last part with a hint of resentment, and Ginny rolled his eyes.  "And I moved him right back out," she reminded him.

He shrugged, seemingly indifferent.  "Whatever."

She didn't realize he was still sore about that . . not after all that had happened since.  She brushed his mood away, determining there were more pressing matters about which to care.  "Well, shouldn't we help them?"

Draco made a face and rested his head against the wall, eyes closed.  "It's their problem . . . let them work it out."

Ginny glared at him.  "If they _don't,_ then it _will_ be _our_ problem!"

Draco popped an eye open and shrugged.  "Come here, love.  I need to hold you while I think."

Ginny snorted even while she blushed.  He'd been much more affectionate since his birthday—not the desperate kind of affection, but the sure, serene kind.  His touches were no longer hurried and full of passion; instead, they were confident and easy, and Ginny liked it.

She walked to him, settling herself between his legs as she reclined against him.  His arms locked around her waist, and he kissed her temple.  Neither said a word; and as she looked at them in the mirrors on the opposite wall, Ginny half feared he was sleeping.  "Are you awake?"

He sighed.  "Yeah."

"Are you thinking?"

He sighed again.  "Yeah."

She was growing annoyed by his short answers, and she frowned.  "What are you thinking about, then?"

His fingers began to caress the bare skin of her abdomen, and her tummy contracted with each movement in response.  "I'm thinking how I'd like to christen one of the prefects' bathtubs as a Pool of Love."

Ginny gasped, both at his statement and his lips hitting a sensitive spot just below her ear.  "Draco!" she chastised, even as she leaned further into him.

He chuckled and grasped a lobe with his teeth, running his tongue along the curve of it.  "You know you wanna," he whispered before kissing the upper curve of her ear.

She shook her head, moving it out of his reach.  "We have a _problem_ here!"

"I fully agree, love.  You're all sweaty, and you're not naked and screaming my name in ecstasy!  We need to remedy that right now.  I'll race you to the tubs—"

She shut him up with a hard kiss before grasping his chin in a firm hand.  "Stop thinking with your _southern_ head and start using the northern one!"

"But all the blood's down there at moment," he said, wagging his eyebrows suggestively.

She rubbed her bum, blushing as she felt him, and he groaned.  "Don't do that if you don't want me using my southern head," he warned.  "Its mouth may just speak out of turn."

Ginny's jaw dropped open, and she smacked his arm twice before standing.  "You're such a randy bastard."

He shrugged, clearly unashamed.  "With a girlfriend like you, who wouldn't be?  Do you know how incredibly sexy you are?  Especially now . . . your training gear ought to be banned!"

She was wearing a Muggle sports bra and track trousers—hardly what she would call sexy, but Draco on the other hand . . . a shirtless Draco was definitely sexy to her!  "You just don't have any self-control," she muttered.

He grinned at her, and Ginny was close to melting.  "I don't think that's a fair thing to say.  If I _didn't,_ you and I would've been naked making sweet love when Nia and Potter barged in here."

Ginny pursed her lips and glared at him, angry he caused her to blush yet again.  "Unbelievable."

"Precisely.  I should be given a medal for my tremendous self-control."

She snorted and began to pace.  Was it really too hard for two people to admit their feelings for one another?  Granted it took Ron and Hermione the better part of five years, but Nia and Harry didn't have that luxury.  Though she hadn't dreamed in a while, Ginny felt danger, and it concerned the two resistant potential lovebirds.  Set and Voldemort were close to something—she could feel it—and she knew, somehow, that Harry and Nia's being together would stop it.

"There's more to this than a mere meeting of hearts, isn't there, love?"

She looked at him, noticing his eyes were narrowed.  She didn't answer him and continued to pace, placing her thumbnail between her teeth.  She heard him rise but still ignored him, her mind working overtime.

"What do you know, Ginny?"

She threw up her hands in exasperation.  "I don't know anything!  All I have are theories."

He put his hands on her shoulders and squeezed gently.  "Theories are better than nothing, love."

Ginny sighed and leaned against him.  "Harry's in danger."

He snorted.  "What's so new about that?"

She bit her lip and frowned.  "What's _new_ is that he won't be able to save himself this time . . I think it'll be up to Nia and, oddly enough, you."

Draco inhaled a sharp breath and stepped away from her.  She looked at him in concern.  "What is it?"

"Lily's warning . . . she told me of Voldemort's new attack—I completely forgot about it!"

She peered at him though narrowed eyes.  "What did she say?"

"Harry would be attacked through his mind, some sort of brain disease . . ."

"And how could you help?"

He gave a tiny scowl, and she lifted a warning eyebrow.  "I have to be his friend."

Ginny rolled his eyes.  "Oh!  What a _sacrifice_ that is!"

"You try making nice to someone who's been an enemy for almost as long as you've known him!"

She walked to him saucily, wrapping her arms around his neck.  "You mean like this?"  Ginny kissed his lips lingeringly, waiting until his hands gripped her waist before pulling back.

He smirked at her.  "Well, maybe not _that _way, but I've been nicer to the bloke . . . he's not so bad when he doesn't talk for extended periods of time."

She giggled and kissed him again before giving him a hug.  "You're so good."

"I told you I'd make it good for you," he whispered in her ear.

She shivered involuntarily, those words arousing her.  Draco had promised to "make it good for her" the first time they made love—and boy, did he ever!  They'd taken each other to indescribable heights, and the few times afterwards didn't disappoint, either.

As it was, his lips were making their way to hers, and she gladly accepted them, running her tongue on them before slipping it into his mouth.  The passion was quickly escalating between them, and she wondered if Draco's previous suggestion of the prefects' bathroom still stood.

"Hey, you two!  This was supposed to be a _trainin' _session, not a make out session!"

Draco's mouth muffled Ginny's squeal as she pulled away from him, the heat rising in her cheeks.  Draco merely smirked at his best friend's grandmother and cousin as they walked in with knowing smiles on their faces.  "And where have _you_ been?  You've been gone long enough," he said as he wrapped his arms around Ginny's waist, placing his chin on her shoulder.

Sirius and Jamilah shared a look before he answered.  "Snape was giving us a Set update—the wanker's totally lost his mind."

Ginny's heart rate increased.  "He doesn't know about Draco, does he?"

Jamilah snorted and rolled his eyes.  "Of course he knows about Draco!  What he _doesn't_ know is how he did it.  Severus can't last much more in the position he's in, that's for sure."

"Jamilah, Nia needs to be revealed and soon.  Professor Snape is in too deep as it is.  Forcing him to lie will push him closer to death.  I don't think Nia could deal with that kind of blow," Draco said wisely.

Jamilah plopped in the chair behind her desk and sighed; the chair creaked in protest.  She scowled at it before throwing her forearm over her eyes, obviously perturbed about something.  "While I know that intellectually, Draco, my gut tells me no.  She is not prepared."

The blonde snorted.  "How much more prepared does she need to be after bringing me back from the _dead_!?"

Jamilah shot him a warning look, and he promptly closed his mouth.  "Don't get fresh, Draco."

Sirius winked at Ginny, and she raised a curious eyebrow.  "Jamilah just doesn't want her 'grandbaby' going into the field yet."

"Ya damn skippy I don't want her goin' yet!" Jamilah exclaimed, dropping her arm from her eyes and sitting up quickly.

Sirius gave her a soft smile.  "I'm with Draco, love.  I think she's more than capable of handling herself in battle."

Ginny took slight pause at the endearment, but brushed it off as Sirius being his usual flirtatious self.  Even with Jamilah's age, she was easily one of the most beautiful people Ginny had ever seen.  She stole a glance at Draco and noticed him giving the older two knowing looks.  She'd talk to him about that later.

Jamilah regarded Sirius and crossed her arms before her. "Oh _really._  Where you been durin' these past trainin' sessions?  The chile's all over the place!"

Draco snorted.  "That's because Harry's in denial, and she's frustrated.  I'm surprised he hasn't lost any body parts yet."

"Not as if she hasn't tried," Sirius said on a chuckle.

Jamilah glared at him before looking at the younger man.  "Since you're so knowledgeable, got any ideas on how to fix this impendin' problem?"

Draco shrugged.  "Give them time alone where they can't leave?  They could use another fight like the one last year where they can beat the truth out of each other."

Both Ginny and Jamilah rolled their eyes while Sirius threw his head back and guffawed.  "I've got twenty on Nia," he said, crow's feet appearing at his eyes.

"You would, you old goat!" Jamilah muttered.

"You should be honored and proud I'd choose your granddaughter over the Boy Who Lived—my one and only godson!"

"She _did_ beat him the last time as well," Draco reminded them.

Jamilah shook her head and put her hands in a surrender position.  "I give up."

"Good.  Maybe we'll get somewhere now," Sirius said, flashing a disarming smile.

Jamilah was not amused and wagged a finger at him.  "You know, you ain't too old to go 'cross my knee!"

"Kinky."

Jamilah growled, and Ginny couldn't help but sense the similarity between hers and Nia's.

"That's just disturbing.  I think I'll go shower now," Draco said with a mild expression of horror on his face.

Ginny smothered a laugh at Draco's reaction, but had to agree with him.  "I don't think I'm old enough to hear this line of conversation."

Jamilah looked at them with raised eyebrows.  "But you _are_ old enough to act upon it?"

Ginny rivaled a tomato at that moment and glanced at Draco.  He was slightly pink himself, but he was much calmer than she.

"If I remember correctly, you said they _had_ to," Sirius said smugly.

Jamilah glared at him again and pointed her finger to the door.  "Out, Black!  All you doin' is causin' ruckus!"

He affected a look of innocence and shrugged helplessly.  "Who knew you could get in trouble for telling the truth?"

Jamilah stood and walked from the desk, seemingly ready to throttle Sirius.  "You got _five_ seconds to get yo' ass outta this room, befo' I _kick_ it out!"

"What about the rest of me?" Sirius said with a wink.

Jamilah's eyes widened in surprise before they narrowed, and she walked to him slowly.  They stood a foot apart, and she placed her hands on her hips.  "Just fo' the record—you in the doghouse, hon."

Draco snickered, and Ginny placed her hand over her mouth to hide the smile forming.

Sirius seemed half-embarrassed and half-amused.  "I'll be a good boy," he said, his blue eyes darkening into something Ginny could only name as . . . lust?  She sneaked a glance at Draco and saw him highly amused at the scene before him.  They were _definitely _having a discussion about this later.

Jamilah closed her eyes and bowed her head, rubbing her temples with her fingers.  "I'm too old for this . . ."

_~I'll say!~_

Ginny's eyes widened, and she looked at Draco with reproach.  _~That was mean!~_

He didn't answer her.  Instead, he walked to her and grabbed her hand, leading her out of the room.

"Where you two goin'?"

"It seemed a private moment, Professor, so we were leaving to give you privacy."  Draco shrugged.

Jamilah clearly did not believe him, but seemed too worn to broach the subject further.  "Whatever.  Just find Harry and Nia and bring their behinds in here.  They about to be late!"

Draco smirked and walked out the room.  Ginny planted her feet before she could go any further.  "What, Ginger?"

"Your _clothes!_  As much as I enjoy the view, I don't want anyone _else_ to!"

He grinned and kissed her lips briefly.  "And what about you?  You don't have your robes, either!"

"At least I'm not half-naked!"

Draco grinned.  "Jealous, are we?"

She lifted an eyebrow at him as she walked back to the room.  "You're not the only possessive one in this relationship, love."

Ginny heard him chuckle as she entered the room.

Only to see Jamilah and Sirius locked in a passionate embrace.

"I'm sorry!" she gasped, turning her back to the couple.  Jamilah screeched, and Sirius laughed.

"Let go of me, you oaf!"

"Unlike my godson, I know a good thing when I see it, and I don't let it go."  Ginny turned to them at the comment, surprised by the tenderness she heard in his voice.  Jamilah was looking at Ginny, but Sirius only had eyes for the woman in his arms.

"Sirius," she whispered, patting his shoulder.  "Ginny's starin' at us."

He peered over his shoulder.  Ginny gave a small wave.  "Hi."

He smiled.  "Try not to tell anyone about this, love.  It would be a hard blow to the ladies to know I'm unavailable now."

Jamilah scowled and slapped his arm.  "Hush, you!"

He grinned.  "Okay."  Sirius kissed her again, and it took a while for Jamilah to regain her wits.  She pushed away from him, her breathing slightly heavy.

Personally Ginny thought it was sweet.  "I'll just grab our things and be out of your way," she said sheepishly.  Jamilah opened her mouth, but Ginny shook her head.  "I won't tell anyone—especially Nia and Harry."

"Thank you, chile . . I just don't know how they'd react if—"

"If they're anything like me, then they'd be happy for you."

Sirius smiled and kissed Jamilah's temple.  Almost automatically the older woman leaned into him, closing her eyes at the contact of his lips.

Ginny looked away, blushing, as she gathered their clothes.  She had no right to witness such a tender moment, but she wanted to indulge her romantic side.  She went to the door and, with one last glance at the embracing couple, left.  Draco was sitting on the opposite wall from the door, a little to the left of it in a shadowed spot.  His knees were bent, and his head leaned back against the wall with his eyes closed.

"Thought you got lost," he said, a corner of his mouth lifting.

Ginny didn't respond, dropping his clothes by his feet.  She kneeled before him and gave him a chaste kiss on the lips.

His eyes held an amused yet curious light.  "What was that for?"

She shrugged and smiled.  "For being the love of my life."

Draco smiled as well, cupping her neck to bring her mouth to his and kiss her more thoroughly.  Ginny's hands framed his face, and her mouth opened wider to accept his tongue.  She was getting warm, which meant she was getting aroused.  If she wasn't careful, she'd let him shag her in the corridor!

"Dragon," she whispered as she pulled away.  He sneaked in light kisses, and she smiled even as she glared at him.  "We need to stop."

He kissed her harder before finally ending it.  "No.  We _need_ to get to the prefects' bathroom . . . there's only so much a bloke can take!"

She rolled her eyes and smirked, grabbing her own attire and donning it.  Draco followed suit, though slowly and far less enthusiastically.  "I'll make it up to you soon; I promise."

His eyebrows rose.  "Prefects' bathroom . . . say, midnight?"

She shrugged coyly and began walking towards the Tower.  "We shall see if I'm there at midnight, Mr. Malfoy."  He grinned and shook his head, and she blew him a kiss.

Ginny made her way to the Tower with a smile on her face, blissfully happy despite the current state of the world.  She loved being in love, and she loved being in love with Draco.  Basically, she loved Draco, and she wished everyone could be as happy as she.

She thought about Ron and Hermione, who were now engaged to be married.  Ron bought a ring for her, but Hermione made him keep it until they finished school so as not to draw any unnecessary attention to them.  Personally Ginny thought that was a brilliant idea; besides, a ring didn't mean anything but a symbol of a promise.  Ron and Hermione were loyal to one another—they didn't need the ring or any other trinket to be engaged.

That was not to say the ring was not beautiful—Ron took great care in choosing it and even got Jamilah to place a charm on it.  Ron would not tell her what, but Ginny was sure it was a powerful one.  She wondered if it was the same charm on Fred's ring for Angelina, for they were now engaged as well.  She smiled; Angelina was all but an older sister to her anyway—much like Hermione was—so she approved of the match.

Ginny told the Fat Lady the password, and the portrait swung open.  There were students milling about, and she scanned the room.  She didn't see Harry in the common room, and she hoped that meant he was downstairs at the training session.

But Hermione and Ron were there, cuddled together at the foot of the couch.  She was snuggled in his arms while cradled between his legs.  They were reading a book, and from the looks of it, it wasn't academic.

"Hi," Ginny called.

They glanced at her and smiled before going back to the book.  Ginny went closer and looked at the page they were reading.  The running heads read:  _So You Want To Get Married—A Witch's and Wizard's Guide._

Ginny lifted an eyebrow.  "So much for keeping it secret."

Hermione huffed.  "If you check the jacket, it says _The Other 375 Wonders of the World—the Magical World, That Is._"

"Like Ron would ever care about that!"

He gave her an indignant look.  "I _do_ care about the wonders of the world!  Especially when one of them is in my arms at the moment."

Ron kissed the top of Hermione's head, and Ginny rolled her eyes.  Now she understood how Nia felt when Draco was so affectionate.  _Well, as soon as Harry wakes up, she can join the love fest!_

Draco had a point—why _did_ Nia have to wait?  It was the nineties, after all, and women were more assertive nowadays.  Of course, there were mitigating factors, the main of which being Harry was a celebrity and the entire point of keeping Nia under wraps was so the Dark Forces wouldn't see her.  The minute Harry attached himself to Nia, she'd be exposed.  However, Ginny got the impression that was the least of Harry's concerns.  She figured he was scared, especially since he'd be leaving for three years for Auror training.  As a matter of fact, so was Ron.

"Ron?"

He rested his chin on Hermione's head and turned his blue eyes to his sister.  "What?"

Ginny sat beside him and leaned her head against his shoulder.  "What are you and Hermione going to do when you go off for Auror training?"

Ginny watched Hermione shift, yet the brunette's eyes remained trained on the pages before her.  Ron sighed deeply and shrugged.  "I guess we'll deal with that when the time comes . . . besides, I may not do so well on my N.E.W.T.s, and I won't even have to worry about that."

Hermione turned and gave him a sharp look.  "You be quiet, Ronald Weasley!  You have excellent marks in DADA!"

He smirked at Ginny.  "Perhaps it's because my fiancée's influence is finally rubbing off on me."

Hermione's sharp look melted into a grin.  "I like it when you call me that . . but I'll like it even better when you call me _wife_."

"Me, too, love."  He kissed Hermione's nose, and her face scrunched up happily.

Ginny rolled her eyes and shook her head.  It was much more fun to watch when she had someone with whom to cuddle herself.  "Have you seen Harry recently?" she asked, trying to steer the conversation to less sappy things.  Ron snickered, and Hermione frowned.  "What?"

"He came through here muttering something about 'beautiful Slytherins' . . . I take it he's had yet another run-in with Miss Roberts."  Ron smirked.

"You should really be more sensitive about this.  Remember how we used to be?" Hermione said with a raised eyebrow.

"You mean how we _are, _love?"  Hermione turned back around and returned to her book.  Ron shook his head and looked at Ginny.  "Of course I remember—that's what's so amusing about it all.  In about three years' time, they'll be professing their undying love for each other!"

"We don't _have_ three years!  It needs to be done _now!_"

Hermione separated from Ron and turned her body, so she could see Ginny's face.  "I don't understand . . ."

Ginny shook her head and sat up straight.  "I don't understand, either, but I think the only way Harry will defeat Voldemort is if he tells her!"  Ron closed his eyes, and Hermione pursed her lips.  Their reactions did not sit well with Ginny.  "What is it?"

Hermione closed her book, placing her index finger inside it to act as a bookmark.  "He's not going to do that, Ginny, and you know it."

She was aghast.  "Why the hell not?"

Ron smiled a little at her declaration.  "You know how he is, Ginny—too damn noble for his own happiness.  He won't tell her that until he's ready to commit fully to her.  With You-Know-Who hanging over his head, that may not be for a while . . "

Ginny groaned, resting her head against the couch.  "Well _that_ effectively defeats the purpose!"

Ron shrugged.  "That may be, but until things are stable, he's going to fight it tooth and nail . . besides, she's only gonna hurt him anyway."

Ginny took great offense to that, and she scowled.  "That's unfair!  Just because she's a Slytherin—"

"It has nothing to do with being a Slytherin, Ginny.  It has to do with protecting Harry.  You know how he is—never one to let someone else take the fall for him.  I have a feeling she's going to do it anyway and, in the process, hurt him."

Ginny regarded him for a long while, and her eyes narrowed.  "She told you this, didn't she?"

Ron licked his lips and looked to Hermione . . . doing that telepathic thing she'd seen her own parents do over the course of time.  "I accused her of planning to hurt Harry, and she didn't deny it.  She's not going to want to do it, but something tells me it will have to be done—for the benefit of all of us."

"What will have to be done?"

The three of them snapped their heads to Harry, who looked at them with a curious expression.  Ginny wondered how much he heard.

"Well?" he asked, a corner of his mouth lifting.  "I hope you don't mean extra Quidditch practice, Ron.  Keep it up and you'll be worse than Oliver _and_ Angelina!"

Ron smirked while Ginny breathed a sigh of relief.  The last thing she needed was a defensive Harry.  "Not like you couldn't use it, mate.  Your reflexes have slowed—what about that?"

The mirth in Harry's eyes subdued somewhat.  "Got a lot on my mind."

Hermione frowned.  "What is it?  Training sessions getting too much?"

A brief flash of disappointment and frustration crossed Harry's face before it became unreadable.  "Nothing I can't handle," he muttered before sitting next to Hermione.

Ginny gave him a look.  "Don't you have training now?"

Harry scowled even as he reclined on his elbows.  "I can't deal with her while she's mad at me."

Ginny couldn't be sympathetic to his plight the way she wanted to be.  "Stop being an arse, and you could have pleasant training sessions."

Harry just rolled his eyes.  "You don't understand, Ginny."

"Speaking as someone you _used_ to fancy, I think I do.  You're scared."

Harry's mouth dropped open in mock surprise.  "You should be in Ravenclaw for your show of cleverness, Gin."

Ron glared at his best friend.  "No call to get snippy!  You're just upset she called your bluff!"

"Yeah, well, whenever I want her advice on how to deal with that girl, I'll ask."

Ginny thought Harry's comment was odd, but she brushed it aside as him being sore.

"What are you two doing for today anyway?"

The black-haired boy shrugged and crossed his legs at the ankles.  For someone who had training at that very moment, he seemed quite calm.

"Harry!  What are you doing?!  You've got training with N—"

"I don't feel like going today . . . the sight of her makes me gag."

Now that _definitely_ was not true, and the siblings shared incredulous looks.

Hermione studied Harry with a bit of skepticism.  "Something's wrong."

Harry quirked an eyebrow.  "Oh?"

The brunette crossed her arms and quizzed him.  "What is the name of your training partner?"

Harry opened his mouth, but no sound came out.  Ginny and Ron shared looks of alarm.

"Her name is—"

Hermione shook her head imperceptibly, stilling Ginny's words.  "Harry?"

Then Ginny saw it—the extreme strain Harry exerted seeping from his scar in red and green ooze.  She remembered Draco's warning and gasped.  "Voldemort!"

Suddenly the entire common room went completely quiet, and she smacked her hand over her mouth.  Ginny didn't mean to be so loud, but she couldn't take the words back.  Harry's green eyes locked with hers, and she saw a flash of relief and anger all at once.  "Nice going, Ginny.  Now the entire Tower knows."

His tone was flat, if a little breathless, and she looked at him in awe.  How was he so calm whilst this was happening?

Hermione put down the book and grasped Harry's head on either side to check his scar.  "It looks like blood and some sort of venom . . . how is this happening, Ginny?"

The redheaded girl was desperately trying not to panic, and she forced herself to calm down.  Suddenly Harry collapsed to the ground and began convulsing.  Some of the younger students in the room began screaming while the older ones looked on in fascination and horror.  Ginny was a bit annoyed by this—why wasn't anyone trying to help them?  Ron stood and began to leave.  "Where are you going?"

"To get Dumbledore, McGonagall, and Madam Pomfrey!  Harry's sick, and he needs help!"

"I'll get Pomfrey," Colin offered.  He was the prefect for the sixth years and a friend of Ginny's.  She nodded, and he and Ron left to find the adults.

Ginny crawled to Harry's other side and shook her head.  She called upon her magic, but without knowing what was happening, she felt at a loss.

"Maybe we should get Professors Snape and Roberts as well," Hermione said dully.  Ginny knew Hermione was terrified, but being Head Girl, she had a responsibility to remain calm for the younger students.  What a strain it must be to watch the supposed savior of the wizarding world writhe grotesquely on the common room floor.  It was then Harry became a normal boy—something he always hoped to be—but not in a manner that would give anyone ease.

"May I have a closer look?" she asked Hermione, even as she moved closer to Harry.  His eyes were rolled in the back of his head, and his mouth hung open in a disturbing manner.  Sweat dripped from his brow, and the scar looked red and angry at it seeped.  Ginny figured it was Nagini's venom and even bits of the Avada Kedavra curse which was cast on him almost seventeen years ago.

_Apparently **now** it's decided to work._

"Someone go get Professor Roberts and Snape—now!"  Ginny barked.

"Everyone else go upstairs to your rooms!" Hermione ordered.

Their tones left no room for negotiations, and students rushed to follow the directives.  Ginny lifted her head to see Dean and Seamus leaving through the portrait hole and hoped they'd get back in time.

Harry began to wheeze, and he clutched his head, pulling at his hair in a most dangerous manner.

"Can we put a Body-Bind on him?" Ginny asked Hermione.

The older girl seemed to consider this course of action, then brandished her wand.  "_Petrificus Totalus!_"

Harry's limbs snapped together, and he lay on the floor, straight as a board.  His scar continued to weep, and Ginny shook her head.  That needed to stop and fast, or there was no telling what would happen to Harry.

"How was he able to remember all that he did, but not N—_her?_" Hermione asked as she stared at the prone young man.

Ginny shrugged, but gave her theory.  "You know how strong Harry's mind is.  Perhaps he found a way to block her out, so that whoever's inside his head can't find out who 'she' is.  He loves her, Hermione; top on his list is her safety."

"But at the cost of him?  At the cost of the wizarding world?  Surely she's not _that_ special!"

Ginny bit her lip and gave Hermione a sad grin.  "Think of Harry's importance, then multiply it by a thousand.  She _is_ that important—and yet she doesn't know it.  _I_ don't even know half of it, but it will take both of them to make the world safe."

That statement did not comfort Hermione, Ginny could tell, but the Head Girl sucked it up and thought of another course of action.  "Can't you heal him?"

Ginny had been watching his scar, trying to see if she could.  "I don't know definitely, but I can try."  She touched a finger to the scar, and it burned.  She yanked her finger from him, seeing a red angry mark on the pad of her left index finger.

Hermione's eyes were wide at the sight of it; she began to tremble.  "Ginny, this is bad!"

Ginny wanted to strangle her for stating the obvious.  "Where are they with the professors!?  It hurts to touch him, and the spell won't last forever!"

"Try coating your finger with saliva.  Maybe that'll protect you from the venom."

Though Ginny didn't fancy getting burned again, the welfare of her friend was far more important than a finger.  She wet her thumb heavily before putting it to his scar.  It didn't burn this time, and the scar's discharge slowed considerably.  "Good thinking," Ginny commended.  "But I don't think it's going to last.  There needs to be something stronger!"

Hermione bit her lip and began to snap, looking at the portrait hole.  "C'mon, Ron . . ."

No sooner had the words left her mouth than he appeared, Dumbledore and Fawkes in tow.

Ginny breathed a sigh of relief and moved, so Ron could sit.  "Where's McGonagall?" she asked.

"Order business . . . I felt they should know about these latest developments . . ."

"What happened to him?  Is he dead?" Ron asked, panic lacing his voice.

"I put a Body-Bind on him, Ron.  His thrashing was getting uncontrollable," Hermione clarified.

Ginny studied Dumbledore, noting his blue eyes were no longer twinkling.  "It is as I expected," the wizard said lowly as if to himself.  "Go, Fawkes; see if you can make him well."

The phoenix obeyed his master's command, flying to Harry's head and shedding tears over the belligerent scar.  As the tears fell, steam rose from the forehead, and Ginny prayed it was _supposed_ to do that.

"That's not supposed to happen," Dumbledore murmured.  Ginny's dread rose, and she wondered if he was beyond saving.

"We can't just sit here and do _nothing!_" Ron all but bellowed, jumping to his feet.  He began to pace, and Ginny had half a mind to join his repetitive trek.

Dumbledore shrugged, something that disconcerted Ginny.  "Fawkes' tears seem to have no effect; until Jamilah and Severus come, I'm afraid there's not much more I can do for Harry."

"Well, why the bloody hell not?  You're the most powerful wizard of the age!" Ron snarled.

Dumbledore did not get angry at the outburst, clearly empathizing with the young man.  "They are more knowledgeable than I in matters such as this—I fear this goes beyond modern magic."

The portrait door opened again, and Pomfrey rushed in, Colin right behind her.  The older woman stopped dead at the sight of Harry.  "Dear heavens, children, what's happened?"

Hermione shook her head and brushed a lock of hair from Harry's forehead.  "I fear he's being attacked—in the one place where we cannot help him!"

Madame Pomfrey looked at the concoction in her hand dejectedly.  "Colin said something about his head, so I brought a headache potion . . . I don't think I have anything in my stores to cure this!"

"Then what the hell are we supposed to do?  I can't just stand here and watch my friend _die!_"  Ron was close to tears at this point, and Hermione rushed over to calm him.

Ginny, not one to give up, moved back to Harry and placed her hands on either side of his head.  He was burning, and it hurt to touch him, but Ginny refused to relinquish her hold.  "_Xrok tkas._"

The pain was supposed to stop, but it was clear it didn't, for Harry's eyes lost more light as time passed.  Without warning the Body-Bind ceased to work, and Harry jerked violently, throwing Ginny off him.  She knocked her head hard on the leg of an armchair and groaned.

"Are you all right?" Ron asked, helping her rise from the floor.  She leaned against him, and they watched Harry wage a battle inside his mind . . . a battle he seemed to be losing.

"The damn coward!  Can't even fight like a man, face to face!" Ron said in a trembling voice.  Ginny felt her own tears coming, but she refused to cry.  To cry would admit defeat, and too much had happened for Harry to die then and in that way.

"_OPEN THE DAMN DOOR!_"

Ginny would've laughed at the exclamation if it weren't so laced with fear.

"_YOU DON'T OPEN THIS DOOR, SO HELP ME _GOD,_ YOU GONNA WISH YOU WAS A MUGGLE PAINTIN'!_"

That seemingly did the trick, and the portrait door opened hastily, revealing a trembling Nia and a not-as-calm-as-he-seemed Draco.

"_Where is he?_" she snarled.  Everyone in the room pointed to Harry's thrashing body.  Nia held out a hand and narrowed her eyes.  "_Xrok._"

Immediately Harry's movements ceased.  Ginny's jaw dropped unwittingly, considering she'd just uttered a similar incantation mere moments before, but with vastly different results.  Draco sat on the other side of her, opting to hold her hand instead of removing her from her brother's embrace.

"Where are Jamilah and Snape?"

"Brewing a potion as we speak—Nia knew about this long before Finnigan and Thomas came to the professors—she felt his distress; luckily she's unaffected, or we'd all be fucked."

Ginny didn't say anything, instead watching the scene between Harry and Nia unfold.  It was a surreal and humbling act to witness, and Ginny's heart went out to the younger girl.

Nia frowned as she bent next to Harry, her eyes on the scar.  "Fawkes . . may I borrow a feather?" she asked the phoenix.  Fawkes bent his head and presented his wing.  Nia smiled her thanks and plucked a large gold one from him.  She began to mutter, holding the feather at her chest, and it began to glow.  Ginny saw Harry's eyes widen, and she hoped that was because of surprise instead of the curse.

Nia kissed the feather and ran her tongue along both sides of it.  Ginny couldn't help but grimace at the act, but she had faith it was necessary for whatever Nia was trying to do.  Nia trailed the feather over the line of the scar, and Harry began to tremble, though not nearly as violently as before.  She pressed the broad side of the feather on the scar and placed her hand on top of it.

"_Qou sooxe; talqo_," Nia murmured, then repeated the incantation when she flipped the feather to the other side.  Harry jerked once, then twice, before letting out a long hiss and becoming still.

Too still.

Nia threw down the feather, which was soaked with the discharges from the scar, and lay on top of him, holding his head by his temples.  "_Mare . . . Set, Thanatos, mare . . . mare Apedemak . . . mare . . ._"  Nia was pleading for Set and Thanatos to let Harry go, but Ginny half-feared that would only mean to kill him off.

"_Mare . . ._"  Nia's tone was growing desperate because Harry hadn't moved since she removed the poison from his scar.

The portrait door swung open again, and Ginny turned to see Snape, Jamilah, and Padfoot enter with Dean and Seamus in tow.

"How is he?" Snape asked, his eyes trained on Nia and Harry.

"Nia muttered a spell which was supposed to remove the poison and heal Harry's scar, but since then, he's been very still—almost as if he were—"

"The boy's not dead, but if we don't snap him outta that trance, he will be.  Nagini's poison and Voldemort's hold over the link they share was active for far too long, making Harry's mind very weak," Jamilah said lowly.

"What about the potion you have?" Ron asked, looking at the flask Snape held.  "Why can't you give it to him?"

"He needs to be able to swallow, Mr. Weasley, and as you can see, he can't even blink, let alone swallow," Snape answered, though without the usual condescension.

"Besides, all the potion would do is strengthen his brain and restore it ten-fold.  It won't save his life," Jamilah said with a hint of sadness.

_So it's all up to Nia now . . . again . . . who would save her if she ever got into trouble?_ Ginny mused as she watched the young girl work with Harry.

Nia gritted her teeth and bowed her head briefly, as if recollecting herself and thinking of other options.  She took in a deep breath and grasped Harry's cheeks.  "A'ight, Harry.  You determined to make me beg . . and normally I wouldn't, but these are, as they say, _extenuating_ circumstances," she began, her thumbs caressing his skin.  Harry's eyes were dull and slowly losing life, and Nia moved her face so her nose touched his and their eyes were level.  "Wake the hell up, Harry Potter, _right now!_  Do you know how many people need you?  Ginny, Ron, Hermione, _Draco,_ though he'd cut off a thumb before admitting it—"

"Make that a hand, love," Draco said.  Ginny slapped his knee, but bit her lips to prevent a smirk.

Nia's voice got softer, but not too soft for Ginny to hear.  "_I_ need you, Harry Potter.  You can't leave me _now,_ godammit!"  She moved her right hand into his hair, moving it away from his scar before speaking again.  "I never even got a chance to tell you . . . you can't leave _me_ without letting me tell you how much you mean to me!  You can't!  That's bloody unfair!"

Ginny could tell Nia was trying not to cry, but unfortunately she didn't have the same amount of control, and the tears ran down her cheeks.  Nia's pleas sounded eerily like her own when Draco died, and she couldn't bear to relive that moment in any kind of fashion.  She felt a kiss to her temple and realized it was Draco.  They linked their hands together and squeezed.

"She'll get him back, Ginny," Draco promised.  "She did it for me; she'll do it for him."

Ginny didn't respond and leaned closer to her brother.  She heard him sniffle and knew he was crying as well.

"I love you, Harry . . . I do . . . I'm sorry I've been a coward punk and not told you, but I'm tellin' you now—don't that count for somethin'?" Nia said, her voice tight.  "I know you probably don't love me in _that way,_ but it's awfully wrong for you to leave the woman you _supposed _to be with before y'all even get _together!_  God, please, don't let him leave her . . . me—_us._  So many people depend on him!  All he's ever wanted was love and to have a family and be accepted for being Harry, not the bloody Boy Who Lived!  I know we can't be together, but he can't _leave me here!_"

Ginny's sobs came harder then.  Harry still hadn't given any sign of life, and the longer he remained still, the less likely it was he was alive.

Nia rested her forehead on his briefly before pulling back, murmuring something Ginny couldn't understand.  Then Nia kissed his scar—cleaned since the feather absorbed its discharges—and muttered "_mare, mare_" as her lips grazed it.

Suddenly Ron gasped.  "He moved!"

Ginny wiped her eyes and looked to Harry.  He still hadn't done anything different, and she briefly wondered if Ron was hoping too hard, but then she saw it.

Harry's hand pulsed, and she gasped as well.  Apparently Nia didn't register this, for her position didn't change.  But Ginny was _sure_ Nia knew Harry was moving again when his arms locked around her waist and flipped her to her back.  Nia yelped in surprise, and her amber eyes grew wide.  Draco brandished his wand, ready to throw a curse.

"_Put that damn wand down!_" Ron snarled, reaching across Ginny and snatching it from the pale-haired Slytherin.

Everyone was quiet after that, watching the scene between Harry and Nia on bated breath.

"Harry?" Nia asked quietly, her eyes never leaving his.

"Did you mean it?" he asked just as quietly, his green eyes piercing.

"Mean what?"

"What you said . . . what you said . . ."

Nia closed her eyes and bowed her head slightly.  "Yeah."

Harry closed his own eyes.  "You shouldn't have said it."

"I had to, Harry . . . it got you back here . . "

He moved one of his hands from behind her and cupped her cheek.  "I'm not worth it."

A tear trailed down her cheek, and she smiled.  "You are, Harry, much more, in fact."

Harry shook his head before kissing her cheek and hugging her to him.  "We'll figure it out, love, okay?"

And as they hugged, Ginny knew they weren't only talking about a declaration of love.


	12. Twelve

_Twelve_

He finally had the upper hand.

The balance was back where it should be—he on top, and the other groveling at his feet, ready to do his every whim.

Though the other man wasn't groveling, he would be, especially since he wanted a certain bit of information he didn't currently possess.

"And just what do I gain by telling you this . . . revelation . . ." Voldemort asked, reclining in his newly reclaimed throne.

Pettigrew glared at him, clearly unhappy with the turn of events.  "Control of the Asia and the Americas."

Voldemort shook his head.  "Not good enough.  You can keep Asia . . . I want Europe—it's the hub of the wizarding world, after all."

Pettigrew cut his eyes skyward before looking at Voldemort, a bored expression on his face.  "Fine."

Voldemort frowned.  That acquiesce was too easy . . . too neat.  He wondered what the other man was up to, and tried to play another angle.  "And we do things _my_ way from now on . . ."

Pettigrew snorted and shook his head.  "You don't _get_ it yet!  This will _not_ be a walk in the park.  You make demands, yet you do not think of the consequences.  If I give you complete reign things will go to shit like they did almost twenty years ago . . . no.  The very least I'll grant is 45% say.  No more, no less."

Voldemort's jaw clenched at the reminder of his failures, but he was nothing if not shrewd.  He'd show Pettigrew just how far ahead he could think.  Once Potter fell, this . . ._ girl _will be a non-issue.  Pettigrew overestimated this girl far too much; if she was truly powerful, she'd know not to sacrifice herself on the account of some dumb boy doesn't even seem to want her!

Voldemort smirked and went to Pettigrew . . . he most definitely had the upper hand.  "I'll agree to those terms."

They shook hands and a transfer of electricity passed between them, sealing the deal.  Voldemort's eyelids fluttered once the current settled down and he grinned.  "Splendid."

Pettigrew sighed and sat on the opposite side of the humble wood table.  There were nicks and scratches on the surface that caught his attention.  "What do you know?"

Voldemort sat as well, his fingers forming a steeple on the table.  "I know she's hopelessly devoted to Potter . . . or else she would've never surrendered herself to me."

Pettigrew's head shot up at that.  "_What?!_"

"It is as I've said . . . she's surrendered herself to me.  When she turns seventeen, she will receive the Dark Mark."

"Well how old is she now?  And why do we have to wait?  Do you know how _powerful _she is?!"  Pettigrew's expression was incredulous and Voldemort felt his power rise.

"She is of no use to me right now . . . it is too soon to render her services.  Besides, the Dark Mark will not seal upon her flesh until she is that old."

"And why would she surrender to _you?_"

Voldemort stared at him with his blood-red eyes before answering.  "Potter was close to death, and she struck a deal to save his pathetic life . . . of course she doesn't know _she_ will be the one to kill him when the time comes."

Pettigrew was still skeptical.  "And how do you know she's not going to renege on this bargain?"

"I've marked her.  If she does not receive the Dark Mark, she _and_ Potter will die a most brutal and gruesome death—_Cerebra Mortis—_the very spell she saved Potter from when she struck the deal with me, though he had a mild dose of it."

Pettigrew blinked.  "Does she know about this 'condition'?"

This time Voldemort smiled.  "No . . . she either gets the Mark, or they die.  Either way, we will be rid of them in two years' time."

"And what of her powers?  Have they been suspended?"

"The girl needs to practice!  I will not submit one to my ranks who does not have the magical wherewithal to do my bidding!  However, they have been modified slightly:  she cannot attack anyone with the Mark.  They are free from all her offensives.  She is all but an idle weapon ready to perform at my will!"

"And what of her name?  What she looks like?  Do you know?"

Voldemort's face fell.  "No . . . I did not get a visual or a name—just her voice—and even then it was distorted because of her whispering.  Potter was blinded by pain, and the girl had enough sense not to name herself to me, though I wish she acted like most women in love—irrationally."

Pettigrew was quiet for a moment.  "This arrangement of yours . . . what does that mean for our plans?  How would this affect our attacks?"

"We should keep it small . . . the girl will be fifteen in a few months, which means we have two years to work out the strategy.  No big attacks, only subtle ones in public places.  Hogsmeade was a good warning, but we want them living in fear . . . small attacks—the more random the better—targeting everyone who does not fight for us."

Pettigrew looked at him skeptically.  "How do you know how old she is?"

Voldemort shrugged.  "I asked her."

It was a while before Pettigrew spoke again.  "And when should we start this phase?"

Voldemort drummed his bony, slimy fingers against the table.  "April . . . after Easter . . . the season of holidays will reach a lull then, and no one will suspect it.  The Ministry tightens security during holidays only."

"And do you think Fudge will stand by that?  He's sorely unreliable."

"He wants power, and we secure it for him . . . he will be accommodating."

Pettigrew stared at Voldemort until a grin formed on his face.  "Well done, Voldie . . . for a minute I thought you made some rash deal that could leave us totally vulnerable . . . but it sounds you have it planned out . . ."

"I am the Heir of Slytherin . . . of course I plan . . ."

Pettigrew's grin widened.  "Excellent . . . well, good luck with it, then."

The small man before him stood and Voldemort became confused.  "That's it?  We're done?  Finished?"

Pettigrew faced him, a look of extreme seriousness on his face.  "You think you have won the war, Voldemort, and that will be your biggest mistake.  We will follow your proposal, but I would tread carefully.  Isis may be young, but her advisors are not—"

"Dumbledore . . ." Voldemort seethed.

"Yes . . . among others.  We need to eliminate them before we could even hope to collect on this bargain."

Voldemort pondered this, tapping his finger against his chin.  "And who do you think we should target first?"

There was a breath of silence before Pettigrew's cold, calculating voice disrupted it.  "Snape."

"Why Snape?"

"Why not Snape?"

"Because Snape is our informant.  Attack him, we no longer have an in!"

Pettigrew looked at him incredulously.  "You have a _link_ with bloody_ Potter,_ and you're concerned about having an _in?_  You're _severely_ out of practice, Voldie."

Voldemort lifted his red, pupil-less eyes to the ceiling and breathed heavily.  "Trust me, Pettigrew.  Leave him for later.  You'll do more damage, in fact, by leaving him alone, for he'll _expect_ something to happen.  Living in fear is much more potent than living the fear.  Just the prospect will have him on pins and needles, and he'll incriminate himself."

Pettigrew seemed to ponder this for a while, until finally he shrugged.  "Fine, Snape lives—for now.  But he'll not be able to escape so easily . . ."

"He won't?"  Voldemort's tone was flat, but the curiosity could still be heard.

Pettigrew smirked.  "He'll be haunted by his dreams of his precious Malika . . ."

"My vessel he dated . . . you think he's hiding something?"

Pettigrew snorted.  "And you say you know about your Death Eaters?"

Voldemort shoved away from the table, the wooden chair falling back.  "For eleven years I'd been out of action, you nitwit!"

Pettigrew polished his silver hand, clearly not sympathetic to the excuse.  "And I'd been a rat, and yet I still knew information."

"You were sleeping with the enemy!"

"At least I didn't have to survive on _unicorn blood_ and live a cursed life!"

"You're talking to _me_ about being cursed?" Voldemort asked, then cackled obnoxiously.  "I haven't been around for millennia looking for some goddess to settle a vendetta and a bruised libido!"

Suddenly Voldemort was on his knees, clutching his head in both hands.  "And I wasn't the one felled by an infant!  Do not presume you're better than I—I am older, wiser, and far more powerful than I appear.  You'd rather me an ally than an enemy, Voldemort; I can guarantee you that."

Voldemort nodded slightly, and the pressure on his head eased.  He remained on all fours for a moment before gathering the strength to set his chair upright again and sit in it.  Voldemort clasped his hands on the rough table and grinned maniacally.  "So tell me about Malika?"

Pettigrew rolled his eyes and shook his head, yet answered the question anyway.  "Other than the fact she was to bear our heir?  Snape was in love with her—enough to hide any child she might have bore."

Voldemort eyes darkened.  "Really?"  

Pettigrew snorted.  "Unfortunately, if someone finds a strong enough love, he becomes irrational and suicidal . . . for surely going against the strongest wizards in the world would be suicidal."

Voldemort had half a mind to order Snape here and _Crucio_ the confession out of him, but he stood by his original directive.

"If the child did survive, someone needs to check the records of the Wizards' list of babies born in 1983-84.  If that doesn't work, check the roll of first years in 1994.  We will find this child."

Pettigrew shook his head.  "Snape is anything but dumb, if Malika did bear the child, there would be no paper trail."

Voldemort smiled then.  "There is no counter spell for Wizards' names being put on the list.  If Isis was born, her name would be on the list—I guarantee it."

Pettigrew sighed and looked at the ceiling.  "Well, we're back at square one, then."

"How so?"

Pettigrew's eyes widened as if the question had a plain answer.  "We don't have a _name!_  What are we trying to find with no _name?_"

Voldemort quirked a hairless eyebrow.  "A young woman who looks like Malika."

A light of recognition appeared in Pettigrew's eyes.  "_Her!_"

Voldemort frown.  "'Her' who?"

"There was a woman I was fighting during the Hogsmeade attack . . . she looked eerily familiar, but I couldn't place her . . . I believe _she_ is who we want!  We want _her!_"

Voldemort's mind went back to that night, and he remembered but frowned.  "Isn't she too old to be Isis?"

"Yes, but if she is here, her daughter is not too far behind . . ."

"Snape said Malika was dead," Voldemort reminded Pettigrew.

"Even better, it means the _heir_ is here—and at Hogwarts . . ."

"Which means Snape knows who she is," Voldemort seethed.  Maybe he'd been too hasty in trying to spare his Potion Master's life.

Pettigrew raised an eyebrow.  "Calm yourself, Voldie; it is as you said.  Snape cannot just hand her over on a silver platter—not without arising suspicion."

"We can send her an owl—a portkey, perhaps?" Voldemort suggested.

Pettigrew rubbed his chin and grinned.  "Now there's an idea . . . she opens it and she's sent here.  We torture her . . . maybe even have a bit of fun . . . until she gives up her granddaughter."

"Yes!"

The other man chuckled before he rolled his eyes.  "NO!" Pettigrew shouted, slapping his hand on the table.  It cracked from the force, and new splinters appeared on the top.  "She will _not_ give up her granddaughter!  The passion she was fighting with will _never_ allow her to do such a thing!"

"Then why take the woman, then?"

"The granddaughter will come to us," Pettigrew reasoned.

Voldemort shook his head.  "I doubt it.  If anything, the grandmother will force her _not_ to come.  There is a reason Isis never made an appearance at the attack, though everyone else did.  They know we are searching for her, and as long as she is in Hogwarts, we cannot get to her."

There was a long quiet pause before inspiration hit.  "How about this—we send a portkey to Isis, and we'll see where the letter goes from there . . ." Pettigrew suggested.

Voldemort's eyes flashed and he smirked.  "That may be the trick.  But let the portkey have a delayed reaction, so that it will be a surprise—maybe wait a week or two before it is activated and she comes to our lair.  Everyone will be surprised and caught unawares . . ."

Pettigrew smirked as well.  "Excellent idea, Voldie!  A delayed-action portkey to bring Isis to me—where she belongs.  Then the pouf hero _Potter_ will come galloping on his steed to rescue fair maiden—"

"Where she will receive the Dark Mark then dispose of him . . . or they both die . . ." Voldemort cackled.

Pettigrew's grin turned malicious and morbid.  "Where we will finally secure our victory—and the world!"

~~~~~~~~

He hadn't even properly landed when she barreled into him, knocking them both to the ground.

"You did it!" she squealed, laughing and squeezing his neck in joy.

"We _lost!_" he muttered, but hugged her back just as enthusiastically.

"Yeah . . . but _you_ caught the Snitch before _he _did!  _You_ won!"

"Except a _beautiful redhead _had to steal my victory from me!"

She sat up and straddled him, mischief twinkling in her eyes.  "I don't think Hermione would appreciate you making eyes at her man!"

Draco's gray eyes turned to steel and she tried to scramble off him.  She was denied an escape as he grabbed her waist, pushed her on the ground, and tickled her unmercifully.

"You think you're funny, don't you?" he asked breathlessly as his fingers hit her most ticklish spots.  She couldn't answer for laughing too hard, settling for a forced nod.  Suddenly the pressure was lifted from her, granting a blessed reprieve.

"Is this blonde git bothering you, Nia?" Goyle said with a wink in her direction.

"Where do you get off calling me a 'git' you daft prat?!" Draco muttered with a scowl, poking his elbow into the larger boy's stomach.  Goyle made a painful face yet chuckled, offering her a hand to rise.  She giggled as she got to her feet, hugging Goyle's large frame.

"My rescuer," she sighed, batting her eyelashes exaggeratedly.

"Dear Merlin, Nia.  You're becoming as bad as a _Gryffindor!_"

She sucked her teeth.  "Well I _am—"_

"Yes, yes!  Don't remind me!" Draco whined, clasping his hands over his ears and walking quickly to the locker rooms.

Nia giggled as he walked away, winking at Goyle who grinned at her.  "I love how he conveniently forgets he's _dating_ a Gryffindor!"

"Well, she does have Slytherin tendencies," Goyle mused, rubbing his chin.

Nia made a face, clearly skeptical.  "Of course . . ."

Goyle touched her shoulder gently.  "You'll be okay?  I'm going to the locker rooms as well."

Nia sucked her teeth and rolled her eyes.  "I think I'm big enough to make it to the castle by myself, _Dad!_"

He stared at her for a moment before squeezing her shoulder and smiling softly.  "Draco'd kill me if anything happened to you . . ."

"Can't let that happen, can we?"

He grinned and squeezed her shoulder again.  "See you at dinner."

She nodded and watched him leave the pitch.  The crowds were filing out as well so she followed suit, glad for the anonymity it gave her.  Ever since that rather tense episode in the Gryffindor common room almost a month ago, she'd been on edge, looking over her shoulder as if Voldemort would jump and demand his collection on the bargain.  It had been a hasty decision, and now she regretted the move.  She'd felt a constant sort of pressure at the back of her head, like a dull tingling sensation, but she never told anyone for fear someone would find out her secret.  Draco didn't know about the bargain, but he did know Voldemort—and that was enough for him to keep semi-permanent surveillance on her.  Nia didn't want to validate Draco's worry with news of her deal.

Bad enough Harry knew about it . . .

_Too bad he doesn't know the other one . . ._

Nia didn't think Harry heard her declare her love for him, and she figured just as well.  It would make keeping up her end of the bargain so much easier . . .

Besides, that reason sounded so much better than the one her heart was trying to form—that he _did_ hear it but ignored it.  Either way, the result was the same:  he didn't love her.

A sudden gust of wind came and she wrapped her cloak tighter around her.  The February air seemed colder than it did last year, but that could have something to do with her own outlook at the moment.  Things appeared incredibly bleak and morose, and Voldemort's deal only made the days grow darker and colder.

Her mind drifted back to her conversation with Ron during Winter Break.  She'd said she'd hurt Harry, and with this deal, that premonition was coming to life.  She did it for Harry . . . to save him, protect him.  She loved the boy, how could she not?  Nia snorted, thinking how that wasn't very Slytherin of her . . . but Gryffindoric blood ran through her veins, and she couldn't deny that any more than her love for Harry.

Nia glanced around her, noting the crowd had already entered the castle while she was still a good distance from it.  She sighed, figuring it was just as well.  Why pretend to be alone when you actually _could_.

Last week's Valentine's Day festivities were particularly hard to endure, _especially_ given the declaration.  Though Harry did give her a card, it was clear it was a gesture of friendship—almost a peace offering—rather than an affirmation of anything deeper.  Even her _grandmother _had plans, though she'd wished Jamilah said she was dating Harry's godfather _before_ then.

Nia rolled her eyes.  _The older generation got the clue; what was Harry's problem?_

So wrapped in her thoughts she didn't register the crunching snow behind her, and suddenly her eyes lost sight and an arm was around her waist.  Her body tensed and a gasp came out sharply.

"Shh . . . it's just me . . ."

The bane of her existence thus far, she thought sardonically, but her body relaxed in his arms.  They were still walking, and she relied on him to lead her correctly.

"Where are we goin', and why don't you let me see?"

"It's a surprise," he said lowly, the low timbre of his voice causing her to shiver despite the cold.

She rolled her eyes, her lashes brushing his palm.  His hand squeezed lightly in response and she bit back a smile.  Whatever this surprise was, she though it better be good for she'd been outside for an awful long time.

"Harry!  I ain't playin' anymore would you just . . ."

He chose that moment to turn them around and uncover her eyes.  She blinked, awed by the sight before her.  The sunset was beautiful, with pinks, golds, and purples brushing the twilight sky.  They were on a hill by the castle so that the entire of Hogwarts grounds could be seen in the view.

"Beautiful," she murmured as her eyes took in the sight.

"Very," his voice whispered in her ear before he kissed her cheek.  Her ears twitched at the contact, her body becoming warm despite the chill.

His arm tightened around her as his other hand cupped the back of her head.  "Are you all right?  Is it your head . . ."

"Mmm, not my head," she murmured, desperately trying to keep her voice steady as she continued to stare at the sinking sun.  He should not touch her like he was . . . as if she were something precious to him.  It's too much for her young mind to process—affection without love behind it.  It's different from Draco's or even Goyle's comforting touches.  Harry ignited a spark within her that, if she admitted it to herself, would never extinguish.

"Nia," he whispered in her ear again, and she shivered.  Her throat tightened and her eyes began to sting.  His tone was so tender, a caress upon her heart she wished would remain for always.  Nia knew she couldn't stay in his arms like they were, or she'd embarrass herself beyond repair.  She tried to surreptitiously move away, but his grip tightened.

"It's not finished yet," he said softly, his lips moving against her temple.  Nia's body was tense like the string of a bow, and when his hand moved to circle her waist, she quivered.

"Cold, love?" he asked as he brought her closer.  The thumb at her waist began a back and forth motion, and goosebumps rose from the action.

"Relax, baby, relax . . . I'm here . . ." Harry whispered as he kissed her temple again.  Nia felt tears stinging her eyes.  While he was there, it wasn't the way she wanted him to be; but being in his arms was a cruel glimpse of what could be if only Harry had the romantic notions to back up his actions.  Nia feared she was displacing her own love into his embraces and words, and the knowledge he _really _didn't feel the same way hurt.  It was all too much for her to take; she had to leave _now!_

"I have to go," she squeezed out, breaking from his embrace and all but ran inside the castle.  She heard him call her but she ignored it.  She passed the Great Hall, definitely not in for a staring match with Harry as she tried to play it cool . . . there was nothing cool about this—about loving someone who didn't match her affections.

Her chin began to tremble despite her best efforts to stop it, and a warm tear trailed her cheek.  She brushed it away angrily, but soon another came to take its place.  Nia rushed down stairs to the dungeons, reaching the Potions classroom when a hand grabbed her arm turning her around and pushing her against the wall.

"Why do you keep running from me?" he asked breathlessly.  Nia looked at the ground, unable to meet his emerald gaze.  He grasped her chin and directed her face to his, squeezing her chin lightly and forcing her to meet his eyes.  She didn't answer him, knowing there was no way she could keep his eyes _and_ make a halfway decent lie at the same time.

It was too much.

"Well, Nia?  Why do you run from me?"

She shook her head and dropped her eyes, her thumbs fiddling against each other.

"You didn't like my surprise?" he asked with a hint of amusement.  She nodded.  "You did?"  She nodded again.  "Are you sure it's not your head—"

"My head is fine!" she snapped, annoyed he kept going back to that, to the deal she made with the devil himself.  "I don't ask you about your scar every five minutes!"

His hand dropped from her face and she half expected him to leave her alone, which was why she jumped at the feel of his palms on her cheeks, lifting her head so they could make eye contact.

"Are you afraid of me?"

She closed her eyes and squeezed them, determined not to cry, as she so often did whenever he was being particularly tender.

"You've asked me that question before, and unfortunately it the answer hadn't changed."

He sighed deeply, his thumbs caressing her cheeks.  "What can I do to make you not be afraid of me?"

She shook her head and shrugged her shoulders.  "I don't know . . . maybe just leave me alone."

"You're my training partner . . ."

Nia sucked her teeth and jerked her head from his grasp.  "Find another one!" she snarled before turning and placing her palm on a stone in the wall.  It disappeared and she walked inside, upset the wall wouldn't reappear before Harry had a chance to follow behind her.  The room she found completely by accident, and she figured it was like the Room of Requirement—only for the dungeons.  It made sense to her, at any rate, for why would dungeon people go up seven flights for stairs for something they needed?

Unfortunately, there was a distinct difference between the _actual_ Room of Requirement and this room:  she _needed_ to be alone.

Yet Harry was with her, anyway.

She rolled her eyes and crossed her arms below her breasts, keeping her back to him.  She knew she should alter that sentiment; she _wanted_ to be alone—it had nothing to do with need.  Maybe the Room knew she _needed_ to talk to Harry, regardless of what she wanted.

_Dumbledore is a sneaky old man . . ._

She heard him approach, yet he didn't say a word, nor did he make any move to touch her.  Nia figured he was trying to break her to turn around, but she refused to give him the satisfaction.  The moments passed in silence before finally Harry broke first.

"Aren't you going to look at me?"

"I don't need to look at ya to hear ya!" she said sassily.  Her eyes stared at the wall—bare and gray save for a candle fixture.  The flame upon the wick fluttered precariously and she thought that odd, considering there were no windows in the room.  His presence became stronger as he stepped closer to her, finally placing his hands on her shoulders.

"Have I done something to upset you?"

Nia bit her lip at that.  She could answer no and have things remain the way they were—her on pins and needles and utterly depressed.  Or she could answer yes and fully explain her problem, which, in the end, probably _would_ leave her alone.

Nia and Harry were at an impasse, and her answer would determine which path they would take.

Nia sighed, too tired to keep up pretenses.  "I just can't _take_ it anymore!  Imma ask Grandma if we can switch partners.  I think it would be better if—"

"Switch partners?  Why would you want to do that?  Granted we've had to take things kind of slow . . ."

"I'm just holdin' you down; holdin' you back.  Ginny and I can be partners then you and Draco can be partners, that way when you two leave you'll be used to each others' fightin' styles and you'll have an ally and stuff."

The excuse sounded decent enough, but the snort she heard him emit told her otherwise.

"This has nothing to do with that.  Why don't you just tell me the truth for a change?"

_Oh no he _didn't_!_

She turned slowly, her face a picture of disbelief.  "_Are you kidding me?"_

Those green eyes were dark, unyielding behind the glasses.  "You're lying to me about something, Nia, and I want to know what it is!"

Her mouth dropped open, aghast.  "_I'm_ hiding something!  Tell me this, Potter:  _did you hear what I said that day?_"

Confusion flitted across his face.  "You mean the deal you keep telling me not to mention?"

She rolled her eyes, annoyed.  "What I said before then."

It was so quick she thought she imagined it—the look of recognition on his face that melted into blankness.  She snorted and attempted to walk past him.  He stepped in her way, grasping her upper arms.

"Nia—"

"Let go of me," she said, her tone deathly low.  His fingertips squeezed into her flesh, as if afraid she'd disappear if he let go.

After all, that was her intent.

"Love—"

She jerked out of his grasp, pointing an accusing finger at him.  "_Don't you dare!  Don't you _dare_ call me that and not mean it!_"  He looked at her in shock, clearly not prepared for that outburst.

"But Nia—"

"_Do not_ call me 'love' unless you mean it!  You're just a liar every time you say it!  QUIT LYIN' TO ME!"  She clasped her hands over her hears and shook her head, her body trembling from the emotions coursing through her veins.  Every time Harry had said the endearment, a piece of her heart broke because there was no meaning behind it.  Nia was at her wits' end, and it had to end.  She felt the tears sting her eyes and she turned away from him, determined not to let him see her break down.

There was too much stress in her life—between Voldemort, Harry, and the threat of an attack ever present, Nia wished she could just go back to South Carolina and leave Britain's wizards to their own devices.  There two problems with that plan.

She was directly connected to all the mayhem . . . and Jamilah would have her hide if she tried to leave.

_Either way I'm thoroughly fucked!_

The tension in the room was suffocating, neither of them moving or saying anything.  A few minutes passed and Nia figured it would be safe for her to move her hands from her ears.  Her posture relaxed, yet her hands held the other to stop their trembling.  Her ears perked to hear if he was still in the room, not having the courage to turn around and actually look.  It was deadly quiet, but she couldn't shake his presence from her . . . as if it were a cloud that refused to give her a reprieve.

"I wish he would leave me alone . . ." she muttered, crossing her arms and rubbing them, suddenly cold.

"I can't, love," a deep, husky voice whispered in her ear.  She was all ready to turn and give him another lecture, but his arms came around her like steel bands.  Both held the position, breaths coming shallow and reserved.  Her fingernails dug into her skin—partly from his hold on her—but mostly so she didn't use her powers to throw him from her.

Harry decided to speak again, but not before his nose trailed the shell of her ear.  Nia shuddered completely against her will and she hated herself for it.  "Why do you assume I don't mean it when I call you 'love'?"

Nia heaved a sigh and rolled her eyes.  She didn't have time for these games and technicalities.  "Because you don't!  Quit playin' Harry.  I'm tired of the games."

"I'm not playing with you, love.  I'd never do that to you."

"You're doin' it to me now!"

"Why do you assume I don't mean it when I call you 'love'?" he asked again, only this time his hands slipped inside her robes and went under her shirt, caressing her bare stomach.  Nia froze.

"Harry?"

He didn't respond right away.  "It's all I can do not to touch you, Nia," he breathed in her ear as his fingers danced against her skin.  She shivered at the sensation even as she leaned into him.  "You want to know why I've been so distant to you . . . ignoring you . . . I can't accept what you so innocently offer, though I want to so badly . . ."

He drew her closer and she went, his voice and the words hypnotizing her.  "I said your age doesn't matter a long time ago, but it does.  There are so many things I want to share with you, but we can't.  I want to show you, love, not just tell you . . . show you in the most basic of ways . . . the most passionate . . ."  His hands met the bottom of her bra, and he began to caress the expanse of skin between it and the waistband of her skirt.  Nia's knees were becoming weak from his ministrations.  Intellectually she knew she shouldn't let him do that, but her body was curious, and it felt so good . . . she couldn't find the words to tell him to stop.

"Harry," she whimpered as his teeth grasped the rounded curve of her upper ear.

"My body does inappropriate things when you're near," he whispered, then pressed his lower body to hers.  She felt something hot and throbbing against her back, and she sucked in a wild breath of shock and arousal.  The sensations she was feeling were foreign to her—at least the intensity of them—and she felt suddenly shy and entirely unprepared.

This was no game . . . and Nia realized how much she preferred playing it instead of dealing with this.

"I saw you dancing with those blokes at the New Year's Eve Dance," he said softly, kissing her behind the ear as he did so.  "I was so jealous, prepared to snatch you away from them and lock you in a tower somewhere.  You have no idea how possessive I am of you . . . you're more precious to me than my Firebolt—which until three years ago held precedent as my most treasured possession . . ."

She snorted, desperate to diffuse the sexual energy building between them.  "You can't own me, Harry.  Slavery ended almost 135 years ago, at least . . ."

He chuckled in her ear, his right hand leaving her stomach to caress her left arm.  "Funny . . . you most definitely own me—mind, body, and soul . . ."

Her legs could no longer support her, and if Harry's arms weren't around her she would've collapsed to the floor.  He quickly spun her around in his arms, the fire in his eyes hotter and brighter than the one in the fireplace.  She dropped her eyes from his, not able to withstand all she saw there.  Her eyes locked instead to his throat, where she saw his heartbeat pump consistently at his collarbone.  As if in a trance her lips went to that pulse point and softly kissed it before placing a slight bit of suction.  His hands tightened at her upper arms before sliding up to grasp her neck.  His thumbs ran across the stretch of skin below her jaw underneath her ears.  She shivered slightly but her lips moved up his neck, and he bent as if to help her make the journey.  His lips kissed the area his right thumb was touching.  Her eyes fluttered as she snuggled her face into his neck, the lashes stroking the skin.  One of his hands curled around her waist while the other cupped the back of her head, and his mouth went to her ear.  Both were trembling and holding tightly to each other.

"For the record—I'm _not_ playing.  I mean this with every fiber of my being . . ."

She pulled away and was about to ask him what he meant, but his mouth prevented her from speaking.  He was aggressive, starting with an open-mouth kiss—very different from the chaste one he gave her on New Year's.  Her lips quivered under his, quite outside of her control, and the tears she'd tried so hard not to shed rushed forth.  Her breath hitched and she exhaled deeply out of her nose.  Her hands grasped his cheeks and she shook her head, pulling away from him and hiding her face from his.  He lifted her in his arms—one behind her knees and the other around her shoulders.  Her own tightened around him to make sure he wouldn't drop her.

"I've got you, love," he whispered in her ear before kissing her cheek.  Nia merely snuggled closer to him.  He murmured comforting words as he walked to the couch, sitting down with her in his lap.  Soon her tears ceased to flow, but they remained sitting in each other's arms, drawing comfort for the other.

Nia licked her lips and sighed deeply.  "What does this mean?"

Harry kissed her forehead as his hand smoothed her hair.  "I want to be with you, love . . . if you'll have me."

She shook her head, confused.  "Be with me how?  I guess it doesn't really matter anymore since Voldemort knows who I am and—"

"Forget him, Set—_anyone_—this is about you and me.  This is about me wanting to be with you . . . to be able to hold your hand and let every bloke in the school know you are with me, and I belong to you . . ."

Her arms tightened around his neck.  "What about when you go to Auror training . . . you'll meet someone there who's beautiful, tall, smart . . ."

"And I'll realize how that person pales in comparison to you, love.  You're all I want, all I _need._  Every wish and desire I've ever wanted it in my arms right now, only I've been too stubborn to accept it."

This was so unlike Harry that it was making her uncomfortable.  "Stop talking like that, Harry . . . I don't know how to deal with it."

"Say 'thank you, Harry'," he teased, a laugh in his voice.  Nia sucked her teeth and rolled her eyes again.  He kissed her forehead once more, pulling her closer to him.

Nia stared at her hands and bit her lip before taking one of her hands to link through one of his.  She brought their hands in front of her eyes, staring at the difference of color between them.

"We're beautiful together, love," he whispered.  Her golden eyes met his green ones briefly before staring at their hands again.  She rubbed her thumb against his skin, watching the little black hairs rise after being pressed against the flesh.

"So beautiful," he murmured again, and she could feel his gaze on her.  Nia wet her lips before bringing his hand to them, kissing each knuckle lightly.  He moved her hand to his lips and gave it the same treatment.  Nia looked at the ground, heat rising in her cheeks.  She felt him kiss her wrists softly and she sighed, her eyes closing at the contact.

"I didn't know it could be like this," she murmured.  He kissed her wrist again before drawing her closer, his chin resting atop her head.

"It will be even better once those two are destroyed.  I couldn't bear it if anything happened to you, love . . . and the fact I won't be here to protect you—"

"Uh, _excuse me?_  Who's the one been doin' all the 'protectin' as of late?" she asked with a raised eyebrow.

He grinned and gave her a tender kiss on her lips.  "My beautiful Aset . . ."

She sighed and closed her eyes, snuggling into his chest.  "I could get used to this," she murmured absently.  It wasn't until she felt him chuckle she realized she'd said that loud enough so he could hear.  She moved back with wide eyes  "Oh!"

He kissed her again.  "That's the plan, love . . . I'm not going anywhere anytime soon," he said against her lips.

Her stomach growled loudly, breaking the tender moment, and she turned from him in embarrassment.  Harry didn't let her get far, however, and wrapped his arms around her waist.

"Hungry?"

She smiled slightly.  "Famished."  Nia left his lap and stood, stretching her arms high over her head.  Arms came around her waist and she smiled, leaning into him as he kissed her jaw.

"I love holding you," he whispered in her ear.  Nia pressed her cheek against his before moving his hands away from her so she could walk.  A hand slipped into hers and their fingers linked.

"We can't do this when we're outside, Harry," she said, removing her hand from his.

"Bugger them."

Nia sighed and shook her head, dodging his hand as it reached for hers another time.  "We don't have to be in a relationship, Harry.  Just to know you like me is enough."  She walked quickly through the wall, checking her watch and breathing a sigh of relief that dinner was not yet over.  Harry's footsteps echoed loudly in her ears, but she refused to slow down and wait for him.  Besides, they couldn't—_shouldn't—_be seen together as it was.  All Nia wanted was an admission of _something,_ right?  

Students were already leaving the Hall as she went inside, glad she would be lost in the crowd as she made her way to the Slytherin table.

"Where have you been?!" Draco asked in a loud whisper, grasping her arm and pulling her to the space beside him.  Nia rolled her eyes and glanced at Goyle, who merely shrugged his shoulders.

"Answer me, Nia!  Where have you been?"

Her eyes went to the Hall's doors and locked on Harry who went to the Gryffindor table.  There was a small frown marring his features and her heart constricted with guilt for putting it there.

"You were _not_ with him, were you?" Draco moaned.

Nia glared at him.  "So what if I was?  If I do recall, you were telling me to get him to admit he loves me."

"Well?" Draco asked sharply.

Nia shrugged.  "He wants to be with me—"

"Did he say 'I love you, Nia'?" Draco interrupted.  Nia shook her head.  "The great big, bloody _prat!_"

Nia placed a hand on his bicep.  "Oh, c'mon, Draco!  You know as good as me him bein' in a relationship with anyone will spell disaster!"

"But you are _not _just 'anyone'!"

Nia sighed again, kissing his cheek and hugging his neck.  "You're so good to me, Dragon."  His own arms came around her and he dropped a kiss to her forehead.

"You're in a three-way tie for 'The Most Important Person to Me' award," he said on a chuckle.  "Of course I'd do anything to make sure you're happy, love."

Nia noted Draco's 'love' was entirely different than Harry's 'love', and a tremor raced through her.

"He's staring, Nia . . . as if _I_ would put the moves on you," Draco snorted.

Nia pulled away from him and sniffed.  "You make it sound I'm unworthy!"

Draco gave her a half-grin.  "First of all, it is _I_ who is unworthy!  Second, another goddess already has my heart.  Thirdly, as much as I like to annoy Potter, when it comes to you he ceases to be funny.  He more than 'likes you', Nia.  Trust me on that."

Nia chanced a glance to the Gryffindor table and saw Harry staring intently at her.  She felt so exposed under his gaze that her eyes dropped to her plate in shyness.

_~I'm jealous . . .~_

Nia peeked at Harry before focusing on her dinner, cutting up her pork chop slowly.

_~Of what, Harry?  It's just Draco.~_

Harry didn't answer right away, and she half figured he ignored her comment.

_~This is the second time I wished I was the bloke, but this time is infinitely worse.  He gets to hold you and kiss you freely and in public, and I'm relegated to chance encounters and secrecy . . . sometimes I wish I had let the Hat sort me in Slytherin . . . then I would always be with you.~_

Nia took a large gulp of her water, her cheeks flaming from Harry's thoughts.

"Are you all right, Nia?" Goyle asked, a hand on her shoulder.

She nodded quickly.  "Fine, thanks.  I guess I'm not hungry anymore."

"You barely touched your food!" Draco exclaimed, then bent his mouth to her ear.  "He's using the link, isn't he?"  Nia nodded.  "If he's anything like Ginny, he's saying naughty things, isn't he?"

Nia gave him a weird look before chuckling.  "We have yet to reach that stage, Dragon, but he's being very sweet."

"Blech," Draco shuddered.  He glanced to the Gryffindors before regarding her again.  "How about this:  eat at least half of your food and then you can go and do whatever."

"Oh thank you _so much _Daddy Draco!Will you read me a bed time story after you tuck me in, too?"

Draco glared at Goyle for laughing and shoved the other boy in mock contempt.  "Only after Uncle Goyle changes your nappy."

Goyle's face was the picture of horror before all three burst into laughter.  Nia rested against Goyle's large frame as her body shook with the giggles.

_~Your face lights up when you laugh, love.  I get a large sense of pride when I'm the one who causes such a reaction in you . . . only makes me wonder what other types of reactions I could draw from you . . .~_

Nia stopped laughing immediately as Harry's thought came in her mind.  She sat straight again and began to eat.

"I think he's been taking lessons from Ginger, because she's looking over here like the cat that ate the canary," Draco whispered in her ear.  Nia rolled her eyes, not wanting to see Ginny's smirking face at that moment.

"How do you deal with it?" Nia asked, popping a piece of pork chop in her mouth.  

He looked at Ginny briefly before smirking.  "As you said:  you haven't reached that stage with Potter just yet . . ."

The pork chop piece almost went down the wrong pipe and she gave him a scathing look.  "Blech," she said with a scowl.  Draco chuckled and pulled away from her, taking a drink from his goblet.  "You love making inappropriate comments at inappropriate times, don't you."

"It's my calling card," he said with a wink.

"Yeah, well, leave a message, 'cause I'm goin' to the DADA room, see if Grandma's there," she said, taking one last bite of her meal before standing.

"You don't have training, do you?"

Nia shook her head and shrugged.  "Well, even if she ain't, can't hurt to practice."

Draco stared at her a moment then smiled.  Nia realized how handsome he was when he did, but it was a different kind of handsome than Harry's—like the difference between a light and dark angel, though most would consider Harry all goodness and light and Draco sinister and dark because of his father.

Nia smiled herself and kissed his cheek.  "See you later, Dragon."  Draco chuckled again but said nothing.  She squeezed Goyle's shoulder when he passed and mouthed 'bye'.  He grinned and nodded, then went back to his conversation with Blaise.  She did not look to Harry, mainly because she didn't want to giver him any cause to follow.

But when she heard footsteps following behind her, Nia thought it wouldn't have made a difference if she looked or not.

As she continued to walk, however, the energy Nia felt was not one she associated with Harry.  It was hostile, menacing, and highly unpleasant.  Her heart rate picked up as well as her pace, desperate to get to the DADA room.  Consequently so did the footsteps behind her, and it was all she could do not to break out into a full run.

_Please go away!_ she thought as she went to the DADA room, running inside and closing the door, her back pressed against it as if it would bar the person from coming into the room.  In her panicked state she forgot this was a magical school, and all it would take was a simple spell that would make the door disappear.  Her eyes darted around the room for a weapon, and she Summoned a bo stick to her hands, ready to defend herself if necessary.  The energy was strong, and Nia knew the person was behind the door.  Nia noted Jamilah was not in the room, and she cursed aloud, knowing she was actually alone.  She closed her eyes, willing the person to leave her be, and after a few moments the energy left, seeming to think it better to leave the confrontation for another time.

Nia breathed a sigh of relief, but it turned into terror when the door opened.  She immediately went on the offensive, whirling the stick so it would connect soundly with the intruder's temple.

A _whoosh_ penetrated the silence of the room, followed by a _thwack_ as the stick hit the doorframe.  She pivoted quickly on her heel to get in another swing, but this time the stick was grasp in the other's hand, and she was jerked forward.

"_NIA!_"

Nia swallowed a sob when she heard his voice, and went into his arms, grasping him tightly.

"Are you all right, love?" he asked, a hand stroking her head.  She shook her head and burrowed further into his chest.

"Sirius, what in the—"  Jamilah's words died when she saw her granddaughter clutching Sirius.

"Nia baby, what happened?" she asked, her hand coming to Nia's back making comforting strokes.  She held Sirius tighter, trying to calm her body down from its adrenaline rush.

"I told you, Jam!  That kid was up to no good . . ." Sirius whispered as he walked them further in the room.

Jamilah snorted.  "When is he ever?  That's the same boy Nia baffed last year . . . and told him off good during the dance, too.  He has 'foul' written all over him."

"And it seemed he wants a piece of Nia, too," Sirius said, sitting Nia in one of the desks.  Her arms went around herself to keep the chill out at the prospect.  So it had been Crabbe with that energy.  Nia vaguely wondered why she was so surprised—he'd never been particularly nice, but this was bordering on ridiculous.

"What are we gonna do about that boy, Sirius?  He's badgerin' my grandbaby, and I won't take it!"

"Shh," Sirius said.  Nia lifted her eyes to see him cup Jamilah's face and kiss her forehead.  A small smile graced Nia's face at the scene.  She didn't find about them until Valentine's Day when she spied a bouquet of flowers from him on Jamilah's dresser.  Sirius obviously loved her grandmother, and that was all that mattered to Nia.

_Besides . . . they're cute together . . ._

"Has he been doin' this often, Nia?" Jamilah asked, a frown on her beautiful face.  Nia didn't want to answer, so she shrugged.  Jamilah's frown deepened.  "Nia Aset Roberts!  Don't _sit_ there and tell me this boy's been botherin' you all this time!"

"Ain't nothin' I can't handle!" Nia said firmly.

"That's why you 'bout knocked Sirius's head off?" Jamilah asked incredulously.

"Exactly!" Sirius said with a chuckle.  "If I didn't have to tie my shoe, I would've caught a bo stick in my eye!  I believe it when Nia says she can handle it."

Jamilah continued to scowl, but shook her head.  "What's the trainin' for if not to prepare you for things like that."

"Exactly," Nia said, resting an elbow on the desk and holding her head in her hand.  And Lord knew she would have to be on point for that final battle—when Voldemort called her to meet her end of the bargain.  She had absolutely no intention of fulfilling it, but the last thing she wanted to do was put Harry in danger . . .

The door slammed open, revealing a heavily panting Harry as he looked wildly in the room.

"Harry?" Nia asked, sitting up a bit.  His head snapped to her and he rushed forth, falling on his knees as he reached up to frame her face.

"Are you okay?"

She frowned, her own heart increasing its pace.  "What's wrong Harry?"

"_Are you okay?_" he growled, this time moving her head from side to side and pushing it back so he could check her neck.

"Yes."

Harry breathed a sigh of relief.  "Crabbe said—"

"Crabbe is a liar, Harry," she said as she rolled her eyes.  "He didn't touch me."

His eyes roved the rest of her body, to make sure her words corroborated with her appearance, when it did he breathed another sigh of relief and rested his head in her lap.

"He said—"

"I'm all right, Harry . . . he didn't touch me," Nia said, her voice tender at the concern Harry exhibited.  His arms came around her waist and squeezed, his cheek pressed against her stomach.

"If he _touched you_—"

"He didn't, Harry."

He clutched her shirt at her back as he pulled away to look into her eyes.  He didn't say anything for a while and squinted his eyes.  "_Has_ he touched you?"

She dropped her eyes briefly.  "No, I swear Harry, he hasn't."

Their eyes remained locked for a moment, then he nodded.  "You _would_ tell me if he has?"

"Yes."

He placed his face at her stomach again.  "You're the most precious thing to me in the world, Nia.  I couldn't bear it if something happened to you . . ."

Tears welled in her eyes and she closed them, running a hand through his hair.  Once she thought her emotions were in check she looked at the top of his head then at the adults in the room.  Sirius stared at Nia even as he held Jamilah in her arms and kissed her temple.  Jamilah was watching Harry as she snuggled closer to Sirius.  Nia couldn't deny the similarities in the embraces, though the actual postures were totally different.  The feelings behind them, however, seemed just as deep and powerful between Harry and Nia as they did between Sirius and Jamilah.

Sirius smiled at her then and nodded.  "What I feel for your grandmother, love, Harry feels for you."

Nia blinked at Sirius, then dropped her gaze to Harry.  He was staring at her, his eyes so full of what Sirius's were whenever he looked at Jamilah.  Nia closed her eyes and felt his hand cup her cheek.  His thumb brushed a tear she never knew she shed and her eyelids fluttered open.  He was still staring at her, and she gave him a smile . . . a smile he returned.

Nia knew then Harry didn't have to say the words.  His eyes shouted them enough.


	13. Thirteen

_Thirteen_

Hermione frowned as she watched Harry pace in front of the fireplace and check his watch every time he pivoted.  He ran a hand through his hair and groaned, shoving his hand in his pants' pocket and continued his march, repeating the motion every other cycle.

"What's with him?" Hermione asked Ron, who was sitting beside her against the couch and actually working on his Potions' essay—and during the Easter holiday, no less.

"He's meeting Nia soon," Ron muttered, crossing out a line and not looking at her.  Hermione glared at him then shrugged.

"What's so special about that?  They train together all the time . . ."

Ron snickered and glanced her way.  "This is a different type of 'training', if you get my drift . . ."

Hermione's mouth dropped open, and she was dangerously close to squealing.  "You mean—"

"In about . . ."—Ron checked his watch—"thirty minutes his first date with Nia will begin . . ."

A large smile graced her face and she grabbed Ron and kissed his cheek hard.  "This is _perfect!_"

He chuckled.  "I'll say!  Harry goes on a date and I get some lovin' . . . I'm liking this arrangement!"

She rolled hers eyes and slapped his upper arm lightly.  "Is that all you ever think about?"

His eyes grew darker and he kissed her lips softly.  "You should know by now you're always on my mind, love.  Matter of fact, the line I crossed out was, 'Hermione Granger-Weasley . . ."

She grinned and kissed him again, running her fingers through his hair.  "I like the sound of that."

"Me, too.  Looks even better in writing . . ."

She was about to kiss him again when a shadow overcame them.  They both groaned and she rested her head on Ron's shoulder.

"Hermione I need to talk to you . . ." came a shaky voice from above them.  It was disconcerting to hear Harry's voice tremor as it was, but Hermione thought it so endearing all the same.

"Work on that essay, you," Hermione warned Ron with a light kiss before following Harry out the portrait hole.  The black-haired young man ran his fingers through his hair again, and Hermione grabbed it to prevent it from duplicating the gesture anymore.

"Relax, Harry.  Everything will go fine."

He looked at her plaintively.  "All I can remember is the disaster with Cho.  What if she's like that or worse—she's much more powerful than Cho ever was . . ."

"And probably more stable, too," Hermione muttered under breath as she rolled her eyes.

"Pardon?"

She shook her head.  "I wouldn't worry about Nia Roberts being another Cho Chang . . . besides, she knows Ron and I are together anyway . . ."

"Yes, but—"

Hermione shook her head and placed a free finger to his lips.  "No buts . . . just make sure you and Nia have a good time—for me."

Harry nodded and swallowed, moving her finger and grasping both hands tightly.  "I want this night to be perfect, Hermione . . . this could set the stage for the rest of our relationship!"

It was then Hermione realized Harry's behavior went beyond nerves . . . it was genuine fear.  This date might as well be a boggart to Harry.

She squinted her eyes, a small smile appearing on her face.  "You care for her, don't you?"

He shook his head.  "I _love _her, Hermione.  More than I could've possibly imagined.  It's been almost a month since we had our breakthrough, and since then the feelings I've had for her have only grown stronger.  I don't know how I'll be able to go through the next three years without seeing her everyday!" 

She cupped his face and he leaned into it, peering at her through unsure green eyes.  Hermione shook her head and kissed his cheek before drawing him in a full embrace.  He returned it gladly.

"You'll be able to because you're Harry Potter," she whispered.  His arms tightened and she grinned.  "You _have_ to because until Voldemort is destroyed, he'll never give you a moment's peace."

"But—"

"And you have to be an Auror to do so.  I know Ron's going with you and—"

"What about you?"

She pulled away and tucked her hair behind her ear as she stared and the ground.  "What about me?"

He frowned, grasping her shoulders.  "You're coming with us, right?"

She bit her lip and shrugged.  "Not exactly."

"Not exactly?!"

"I want to be a professor!  I want to do research so you and Ron and other Aurors can put it to practical use—that's what I'm best at, anyway!"

His eyes widened and he gestured furiously.  "But you're the bloody best at _everything!_  You would be a top-notch Auror and probably be Head Auror by the time you graduate!"

Hermione rolled her eyes and crossed her arms at her chest.  "_Honestly_, Harry!"

He blushed and adjusted his glasses, a small grin on his face.  "Well maybe right after you graduate, but bloody close all the same!  It's always been us, Hermione!  The Golden Trio—"

"Ugh, I hate that bloody name!"

Harry's grin widened and he shrugged.  "We _are_ pretty golden, Hermione."

She sighed and began to walk.  "It implies we're perfect, and we're not.  At the fore in my mind is that debacle at the Department of Mysteries in our fifth year—"

"But everything worked out in the end!  Nia brought Sirius back—"

"It never should've happened!  If someone would've researched more, we could've avoided a trap like that!"

She glanced at Harry and saw the pensive look on his face.  She grabbed his hand again and squeezed.  "It will still be us, Harry; we'll just be doing our part in the fields where our talents would be the best.  I think—no I _know_ my place belongs in a school.  It's not to say I cannot fight with the best of them, but my love for books and learning would do the Order and the side of Light much good than if I train.  Besides, I can always ask Ginny or possibly even Nia for some pointers . . ."

Harry said nothing and continued to look ahead, his face pinched with a frown.  Hermione felt a small sense of dread, thinking if Harry were acting this way, Ron would be infinitely worse.  He stopped walking and grasped her shoulders, eyes wandering over her face.  She returned the intense stare, swallowing hard as she waited for him to speak.

Except he didn't, merely smiling and squeezing her shoulders before hugging her.  A huge sigh escaped her and she returned the hold tightly.

"Thank you, Harry."

He shook his head and pulled back.  "Don't thank me, love.  You're not the cleverest witch Hogwarts has seen in an age for nothing!  Know I support you on this, okay?"

She nodded and hugged him again, taking comfort in the friendship he offered.

_Nia is one lucky girl . . ._

"How do you think Ron will handle this?" she asked, her voice a bit smaller than before.  Harry began to chuckle and squeezed her briefly before letting go.

"Honestly?"  Hermione nodded, a bit of a curious frown on her face.  "He's been trying to pluck up the courage to ask you _not_ to go into Auror training!"

Her mouth dropped open slightly and her eyes narrowed.  "What?"

He bit his lip and nodded timidly.  "He didn't want you to be in the crossfire of a battle.  He kept going back to the Department of Mysteries battle and you taking that curse . . . sometimes he even has nightmares about it—except the curse is Avada Kedavra . . ."

She gasped and clasped her hands at her mouth, heart swelling for her beloved.  And here she was wondering if he'd be _upset_ she decided to be a researcher or a teacher.  He wanted her out of harm's way.  And while she felt a little bit of annoyance at his desire to keep her out the field, she could hardly blame him for why.

"I wasn't supposed to tell you that, Hermione," he said with a shake of his head.

She nodded and took a deep breath.  "I know you weren't, but I'm glad you did.  That makes my job easier."

"Don't tell him I said it?"

She smiled and cupped Harry's cheek.  "I won't . . . you're a good friend, Harry—a brilliant friend."

He smiled softly.  "Same goes for you . . . thanks for helping me calm down a bit."

Hermione snorted and brushed his thanks aside.  "Please Harry, I had to!  You'd scare the girl with your constant pacing and wild hair!"

Harry gave her a mock scowl and tugged one of her own wild curls.  "Pot calling the kettle black, isn't it?"

Hermione giggled and nodded.  "It's so good to hear a Muggle expression and there be comprehension from both parties.  I say them to Ron sometimes and he gives me a blank look—"

He snorted.  "When does he _not_ have a blank look?"

Hermione gaped at him and slapped his shoulder lightly.  "That's my future husband you're talking about, and your best friend!"

"Basically, you're the only one to say such a thing," he noted dryly.

"Exactly!"

They both giggled at that and Harry caught her hand, his face suddenly serious.  "Whatever happens, 'Mione, it'll all work out in the end.  I know it will.  You two will get married and have your 2 Quidditch teams of kids, and I'll be a godfather to everyone of them!"

Hermione blushed and rolled her eyes.  "And as _I've_ said, we're going to hold interviews for the mothers of the other 12 children, because I only plan on having two!"

They shared another laugh again and he nodded, checking his watch.  He took in a deep breath, pushing his glasses on the bridge of his nose and running a hand through his hair.  "It's crunch time . . ."

Hermione shook her head and kissed his cheek.  "I'm sure it will be a lovely date.  Where is it, anyway?"

"In one of the greenhouses, but we're meeting in the Room of Requirement."

Hermione frowned.  "You're making her come all the way up here for a date?  That's not very gentlemanly-like!"

He chuckled.  "No . . . she's in Jamilah's room which is only accessible from the seventh floor—our floor.  She's not out of her way; in fact, she's in a better position than I!"

She snorted.  "God forbid you walk twenty paces down the hall . . ."

"I'm good with a broom, not with my feet."

Hermione's eyebrows lifted in agreement.  "You _do_ make a horrible dancer . . ."

He merely raised an eyebrow.

She laughed again.  "You know I wouldn't a good friend if I didn't tell you the truth!"

"But Nia _isn't_ a horrible dancer!  What if she wants someone who can!  Like Brandon—"

"Who?"

Harry pouted.  "Brandon Jordan, Lee's cousin in Ravenclaw . . . he was dancing with her at the New Year's Dance."

Hermione bit her lip to keep herself from grinning.  "I'm sure if that were the case, she'd be going on a date with _him _and not with _you!_  I promise, Harry—it will go well.  Just have faith."

"Faith . . ." he murmured and turned in the direction of the Room.

"I'm going to go, now.  We're going to want details when this is over, you know," she said conspiratorially.

He gave her a grin.  "Thanks again, Hermione."

She kissed him one last time.  "That's what friends are for!  Have a lovely night."

He nodded once again went to the Room, and she went back to the Tower.  There were more students now than before, most working on schoolwork though a few were playing Exploding Snap near the fireplace.  Ron was still reclining against the couch, frowning and scribbling away on the parchment.  A fringe of red hair hung in his eyes, and there was nothing more Hermione wanted to do that brush it away.  She sidled up next to him and did just that, kissing his cheek and resting hers on his shoulder.  He grinned at her and kissed her forehead before frowning again and writing.

"What's giving you trouble?" she asked, a hand rubbing his back in comforting strokes.

He sighed and clucked his tongue.  "At present, this lovely woman who insists on touching me and creating a rather naughty reaction in my lower bits . . ."

She giggled into his neck and tickled him briefly.  "Besides that.  You keep frowning at the parchment."

"I'm writing a bloody essay for bloody _Snape!_  When have I _ever_ been happy about that?"

"But what did the parchment ever do to you?"

He scowled.  "Be a foot long—which is the length of the essay.  It's bloody awful, Hermione."

She kissed his cheek again and read over his work.  "Why don't you discuss the uses of the potion rather than the properties, especially when it reacts with skin.  I think that could get you a foot, don't you?"

He brushed the quill's feather against his chin in thought.  "That could work . . . thanks, love!"

"I'm only helping you because there are things I'd rather be doing than watching you write an essay," she whispered in his hear before biting the upper curve of it.  He growled and his quill flew across the parchment.  She giggled again and moved away from him.

"Where are you going?"

She twisted her hair atop her head then let it fall in a heap across her shoulders.  "Slipping into something more comfortable . . . this outfit is not made to lounge around . . ."

Ron gulped, his Adam's apple bobbing tantalizingly, then he grinned.  "I was thinking the same thing . . ."

She was positively _red_ then, not missing the innuendo.  "Get that foot done, and maybe you can . . ."

Ron didn't need to be told twice, and he wrote quickly.  She grinned at his new burst of enthusiasm and went to her room, undoing the buttons of her blouse as she did so.  She changed, putting on some sweatpants and a T-shirt that read "Cannons"—one of Ron's favorite shirts.  She forewent a bra, reaching her limit of endurance with the contraption, and laid on top of the covers on her bed—stomach down—picking up a book to read for pleasure.

Hermione had managed to find a loophole with the barring of boys from the Head Girl's room, and put a list of names of people who were allowed access.  Ron, of course, was at the top of said list, followed by Harry, Ginny, and quite grudgingly, Malfoy—but only because he was the Head Boy.

Crookshanks bounded on the bed and sat next to her elbow.  She petted him lazily as her eyes darted across the pages.  The cat purred in contentment and she grinned.

She planned to be purring soon, as well.

Hermione hadn't even read ten pages when the door burst open, revealing a panting and flushed Ron to her.  She hid her face in the book to hide her grin as she heard the door slam shut and felt the bed sink with Ron's weight.  The cat screeched and jumped off the bed, hissing indignantly.  Ron huffed, muttering something about 'dumb cats' and 'getting lost'.

"There you go with your nose stuck in a book—as usual," he teased in her ear.  She ignored him, thumbing the pages in a show of reading.

"Hermione?"

She turned a page.  "Hmm?"

He kissed her neck.  "I'm ready to slip into something more 'comfortable' . . ."

She snorted.  "Then what are you doing in here?  I have no clothes for you to wear—unless you fancy skirts!"

It was his turn to bite the shell of her ear.  "'Mione!"

He was possibly the only person she knew who could sound sexy even when whining.  As it was she was becoming damp 'down there'; but that could have something to do with the fact he was rubbing her bum with those large, magical hands of his.

She suppressed a shudder and turned an unread page.  "I'm reading, Ron!  This book is simply fascinating!"

He huffed and tilted the book towards him.  "This is possibly worse than _Hogwarts:  A History!_"

"So you've heard of it, then?"

He sighed and rolled onto his back, throwing his arm over his eyes.  "Why in Merlin's name are you reading about the history of N.E.W.T.s?"

She pursed her lips primly.  "I want to get a leg up!  If I get enough N.E.W.T.s in Muggle Studies, Arithmancy, Potions, and Charms, I can get into a top research university and—"

"Research university?"

She tried to shove her face farther into the book.  Though Harry reassured her Ron didn't want her to be an Auror, Ron can be a bit ornery sometimes.

"Ron . . ."

"I thought you wanted to be an Auror!"

"That was back in fifth year, and even then I wasn't too firm on the idea.  But since sixth and now this year, I discovered I couldn't leave my passion for learning!  I love it too much to leave it, and if I can help the Order doing something I love and in something I can succeed, then I'll research spells and potions that can help you and Harry and everyone else, and make sure you'll come back to me when it's over."

By the time she finished her speech tears had crept into her eyes and voice.  Ron moved closer to her and wrapped his arm around her waist.

"Oh love," he murmured as he kissed her temple.

"I couldn't stand it if something happened to you, Ron!  I couldn't!"

"And I couldn't bear it if something happened to you, love, which is why I'm bloody glad you decided not to be an Auror."

She grew irrationally angry.  "So it's all right for _me_ to sit on sodding pins and needles, but not you?  I have half a mind to join just to spite you!"

"And you'd be miserable, and if there's one thing I know, Hermione Granger gets mean when she's miserable."

She pouted and kissed his neck lingeringly.  "Then don't leave me."

"Wouldn't dream of it, love.  And we'll work it out somehow.  Maybe we could share a flat so we wouldn't be away from each other—"

Hermione snorted and shook her head.  "Your mother would never allow it!"

"I'm a grown man now, Hermione!  My mum doesn't control my life anymore!"

"And Voldemort loves Muggles."

He was rather put out by that and moved away from her.  Hermione thought it was just as well.  She began reading again . . . or rather, running her eyes over the same sentence because she was so very aware of the man next to her.  Perhaps that was bad form on her part, but he needed to realize his mum's thoughts meant more to him than he realized, and everything he's done is to make his parents—particularly his mother—proud of him.  She admired Ron so much for that, which is why she squashed any mention of them 'living in sin'.

"Hermione?"

"Hmm?"

He groaned and she smothered a giggle.  "You're right, Hermione.  My mother wouldn't like the idea . . . but maybe we can get flats in the same building—that would appease her somewhat."

"I may have to live in the dorm," she murmured, and flipped another unread page.

"I can Apparate, you know."

She shrugged.  "Then it's settled.  We stay where we're supposed to stay, and we'll Apparate if we want to see the other.  Good idea, Ron."

"Good!  Now let's get comfortable . . ." he said, his voice growing husky.

She smothered a laugh in a cough.  "I'm already comfortable, love, thanks."

"Hermione!"

Hermione smiled and stretched her body, the ends of the shirt riding up her torso.  Goosebumps broke out as her skin met the cool air, and she let out a hiss at the contact of his lips against her flanks.  The hem of the shirt and his lips continued their northerly journey until they met the underside of her right breast.  She shuddered and sucked in a low breath.

"_Ron_," she growled, pressing her face into the bedding, her book long since forgotten.  He moved his kisses along her spine, drawing the shirt completely over her head.  He groaned and her nipples peaked at the sexiness of it.

"I'm going to slip inside you, love," he muttered against her shoulder blade.  "I'm going to make you cry out in ecstasy . . ."

He was alarmingly close to doing that now, and Hermione bit her lip to contain her moans.  She loved the feel of her sensitive nipples against the rough cotton of the spread, but she wanted to feel his hands on her instead.  It seemed Ron had a similar thought.

"So bloody beautiful you are . . ." he murmured against her skin, his hands cupping her soft globes.  She grasped the covers and writhed under his ministrations.  He turned her over, and she looked into his eyes, so dark from desire for her.

"I love you so much," he whispered, framing her face with his palms.  She opened her arms and he rested on top of her, her arms holding him close.

"Make love to me, Ron . . . make love to me . . ."

"Yes . . ." he whispered against her lips, pressing light contact to them with his own.  His hands moved her sweats and knickers passed her hips.  She kissed all along his hairline, whispering, "I love you" after every buss.  His own lips traveled down her sternum, then laved each breast with tender loving, eliciting moans of pleasure from her.  Her hands sunk in his head, running the silken strands through her fingers.

"My 'Mione," he murmured against her bellybutton.  She gasped at the feel of his rough tongue inside the button, and she sighed.

"My Keeper . . ." she breathed, her eyes rolling in the back of her head when his lips went even lower.  And as his mouth took her to new heights, Hermione's thoughts of the future drifted away, leaving only the here and now with the man she loved.

~~~~~~~~

A smirking, lounging, all around _git-looking_ Draco Malfoy was not what Harry expected when he went into the Room of Requirement, _nor_ was the highly bare and highly unaccommodating room—with only a chaise and a wooden table for furniture.

Harry frowned.  "What are you doing here, Malfoy?"

Malfoy's smirk grew larger, though not by much.  "Nia told me a while back about this strange phenomenon of fathers sitting on the porches with shotguns, ready for their daughters' dates to come to the door.  It is meant to intimidate and to give warning."

It was Harry's turn to smirk, and he crossed his arms at his chest.  "Three things wrong here then—you are not Nia's father, you don't have a shotgun, nor are you intimidating."

Malfoy quirked an eyebrow.  "I don't want to intimidate you, Potter.  I want to make sure you know if you hurt Nia in anyway, I'll be worse than the six Weasels Ginger calls brothers and Voldemort _combined_—got that?"

Harry merely snorted and sat down in a straight-back chair.  It creaked under his weight and he scowled somewhat.

"Might want to lay off the treacle tarts, there, Potter.  Jamilah's been saying you aren't as light on your feet as you have been in training."

"Why am I the discussion during _your_ training sessions?"

Malfoy raised his eyebrows yet didn't answer the question.  "Nia's to be downstairs in the dungeons no later than 9:30 or—"

"_Nine-thirty?!_  That's not even an hour and a half!"

Malfoy smirked again.  "She's only fourteen, Potter, and you being considerably older and by all accounts a heterosexual male, that means you'll be thinking with the southern head instead of the northern one—9:30 or you'll never have a date with her again until she hits menopause."

Harry snorted.  "And you honestly think she'll allow you to keep her away from me?"

Malfoy shrugged, resting his ankle on his knee.  "She loves me . . . she listens to me . . ."

"Much as Ginny 'loves' and 'listens' to Ron, I'll wager," Harry said dryly.

"Ginny is only a year younger and as of June 13, she'll be legal—"

"Which means she's not legal _now_, which means if Ron finds out you've been doing more than 'training' whilst together, he'll have your head.  Makes me wonder why I hold on to that bit of information myself . . ."

Malfoy glared at him, a bit of color rising into his cheeks.  "Tell him and die.  I may not work for Voldemort and Set, but I'm still a Slytherin and I still don't like you all that much!"

Harry pursed his lips and rolled his eyes.  "I tremble with fear, I tell you."

Malfoy only rolled his eyes in response, and bounced his foot in agitation.  Harry watched the other boy look around the room, a slight curl forming on his face.

"_What?_" Harry growled.

"I'm glad you decided not to have your date here.  You may not have even gotten to 9:30 if you did!"

Draco Malfoy needed to leave and now.  Harry felt his annoyance rise with every breath the Slytherin took.  It was all Harry had not to shoot a nasty hex at him.

"Maybe the room reflects your heart—empty and bare."

Malfoy rolled his eyes.  "You cut me to the quick," he said, lackadaisically putting a hand over his heart.  "Really, you do."

"Not that you _are_ all that quick . . ." Harry muttered as he crossed his arms at his chest.

Malfoy snorted and chuckled.  "Your wit astounds me . . . or rather, the lack thereof . . ."

"There's nothing keeping you here.  Why don't you just _leave?_" Harry snapped.

Malfoy tsked, wagging his forefinger.  "Temper, temper, Potter.  I'm here to give you some sound advice, actually."

"Why don't you give it to me later—like _never!_"

Malfoy's eyes narrowed.  "This isn't about _me_ and _you,_ Potter.  This is about you and _Nia,_ and how to keep yourself in her good graces.  Point one—don't throw a tantrum when things don't go your way."

Harry scowled.  "I do not _throw_ tantrums!"

Malfoy snorted.  "You throw them harder than Ginger does a Quaffle.  You're such a baby it astonishes me you don't suck on a pacifier all day!"

"You mean like you suck on Goyle's?"

Malfoy blanched, but recovered quickly.  "As if you hadn't been permanently attached to Weasel's from the moment you two met.  It must be difficult for Granger to get her kicks . . ."

Harry shot up and towered over Malfoy.  "Why you little _ferret!_"

The blonde stood lazily and sneered.  "Dear me, Potter.  That's so fourth year.  A wonderful thing called puberty happened and now I have a rather large 'ferret'.  You should ask Ginger about it sometime—"

Harry got Malfoy in a headlock and wrestled him down to the ground, surprise working to his advantage.  Malfoy recovered quickly, kneeing Harry in the gut, effectively relaxing the black-haired boy's hold from around his neck.  Harry grunted at the force, then fell flat on his back as Malfoy tackled him to the ground.  They were so caught up in their fighting they were unaware they had visitors.

"You know what they say, there's a thin line between love and hate . . ."

"Yeah, Nia; I just never suspected it would be between Harry and Draco . . ."

"At least it's not between them and Voldemort and Set."

"_Eww!_"

"My sentiments exactly . . ."

The boys stopped wrestling, and with a look of abject horror, separated quickly, scrambling to their feet as far away from the other as possible.  Harry looked to their guests, blushing furiously at the sight of Ginny and Nia whispering and laughing.

"You smarmy git!" he hissed at Malfoy.  The other boy shrugged as he went to Ginny.  She moved away from him and frowned.

"You dare come to me after your little tumble with you _paramour?!_  I'm not that kind of girl, I say!  I'm not that kind of girl!"  

Nia snickered and covered her mouth.  Harry got a bit of satisfaction at Malfoy's blush and turned his attention to the younger girl.

"What about you, Nia?"

"'What about me' what?" she asked, an eyebrow arched.  There was a grin on her face and Harry's mouth mimicked it.  "I'll admit I feel a bit miffed about what's going on here.  It seems I was just a scapegoat . . ."

Those luscious lips of hers drew into a pout and he felt a stirring below the belt.

_Dammit!  Malfoy was right . . . I am a randy bastard!_

"C'mon, Nia . . . let's leave the lovebirds to it—"

"The only lovebirds who are leaving are you and I love," Malfoy growled and gave Ginny a very thorough kiss.  Nia and Harry shared a look of discomfort before she glared at the snogging couple.

"A'ight, a'ight!  Leave!  _Jesus! _ You'd think you two hadn't seen each other _thirty minutes ago!_" Nia muttered as she all but dragged them to the door.

Ginny turned and gave Nia a hug with a kiss on the cheek.  "I want details!" she whispered none too softly.

Malfoy hugged and kissed Nia as well.  "I don't!"

Harry rolled his eyes and Nia shook her head as the door clicked shut.  The room changed them, going from bare and unwelcoming to lush and warm—though the furniture didn't change.

Nia chuckled.  "He's such a liar!  The minute I walk in the Common Room he'll be aggravatin' me about the date.  Nosy punk!"

Harry would've answered had she not rendered him speechless.  Her hair was thick and full around her shoulders with two peach rosebud clips pulling it away from her face.  She wore minimal makeup, but it matched the coral sleeveless top and skirt ensemble she wore.  Her shoes were flat ecru sandals with light brown soles and showed off iridescent pink toenail polished feet.

"Harry?"

He jumped slightly and shook his head, only to see her looking shyly at him.  Her bottom lip was caught between her teeth and he wanted nothing more to release it and capture her lips with his own.

"You look real nice, Harry."  He looked down at his own button down white shirt and khaki trousers, glad he opted to keep the shirttails out than tuck them in.  There was a red T-shirt underneath to give his outfit a bit of color, and he was slightly relieved it didn't clash with hers.  The brown Clarks McCarran shoes he wore were actually Dean's, but what the boy didn't know wouldn't hurt him, right?

Harry approached her, but not too close to invade her personal space.  "So do you."

She snorted and looked over his shoulder.  "Right.  Talk about feelin' like a fish outta water . . ."

He guided her chin to him and looked into her eyes, wanting nothing more than to take the uncertainty out of them.

"You're beautiful, Nia . . ." he murmured as he kissed her forehead.  Her breath whooshed, ruffling the lapels on his outer shirt.

"Whew!  That's a relief!  Harry Potter thinks I'm _beautiful!_  I can now go to sleep with good conscience!"

He tickled her side, listening to her happy giggle, and drew her into a hug.  She felt so good in his arms, all soft and pliable.

"I love holding you . . ." he whispered.

She chuckled even as she held him tighter.  "That's not the first time you've said that."

He pulled away from her and smiled.  "Because it's true."

She smiled slightly and tugged at his hand.  "C'mon.  Let's get this date started—"

"Anxious to get rid of me already?"

She smirked.  "No.  Just hungry!"  She tugged his hand again.  "Aren't you hungry?"

_Not for food . . ._

"I've been too nervous to eat," he admitted, heat rising into his cheeks.

She dropped her eyes and squeezed his hand.  "Me, too."

He entwined their fingers and they went down the stairs and out of the castle to the greenhouses.  He took great pride in the gasp she let out when they reached the one he set up with the help of Ginny.  It was an abandoned greenhouse with broken glass at the ceiling, allowing the starry night to be visible from the inside.  There was soft green lighting, creating a calming affect for the both of them.  A picnic was laid out—complete with a green and white-checkered blanket with clear plastic cutlery and dishes set up on it.  Their dinner was roast beef sandwiches and cherry pie for dessert.

Nia loved cherry pie.

Harry wanted _her_ 'cherry pie.'

_Bad Harry, bad!_

But when Nia threw her arms around his neck, he had a hard time controlling his urges.  He gently, yet firmly separated them, and internally winced at the hurt look that flashed across her face.  Harry rubbed the backs of his fingers against her cheek and she closed her eyes.

"What are you doing to me?" he murmured softly.  Her eyes opened and he drowned in the molten gold of them.

She hesitated a moment then smiled, and he thought it was the sexiest smile he'd ever seen.  "Kissing you . . ."

It was so light as so chaste, yet Harry never reacted more strongly to anything in his life.  In all the intimate moments they'd had, he was always the one to initiate them.  For her to take the reigns aroused him to the point of pain.

As much as he wanted to deepen the kiss he separated them again, but placed a firm buss on her forehead.

A stomach growled.

"Seems I'm not the only one who's hungry," she giggled.  Harry scowled at his stomach, but chuckled anyway.

"I guess I'm not so nervous anymore," he admitted.

"Good!  It's just lil' ole me!  Nothin' to be nervous about!" she said, nudging him with his elbow.

He shook his head as he grasped her hand.  "There's plenty reason to be nervous, love.  This date could set the tone for our relationship . . . I want everything to be perfect for you, just as you're perfect for me."

She ducked her head again and he tilted her chin with his forefinger.  "Don't get all shy on me now!  It's just lil' ole me!"

She narrowed her eyes at him and sucked her teeth.  "Let's just eat before our stomachs get so loud we can't hold a proper conversation!"

He chuckled and helped her sit on the blanket, then settle beside her as they unpacked the basket and ate.  The conversation started hesitantly at first, but as the meal went on, the uncertainty vanished and ease appeared.  As it was, Harry held a forkful of cherry pie before her, antagonizing her with it so she couldn't take the bite.

"You're such a punk!" she exclaimed, throwing down her napkin in a huff.  He laughed at her frustration and placed the bite in his own mouth.

"It's soo _good_ Nia . . . you should really try some!"

She merely arched an eyebrow at him.  He chuckled and placed another forkful within her line of vision.

"I'll let you have this one."

"You just put your mouth on that fork!  I ain't takin' that bite!"

"I placed a cleaning charm on it before I got another bit of pie . . ." She frowned at him, clearly disbelieving him.  "Okay, so I didn't—but I don't have _cooties!_"

She looked at the ceiling and began to whistle badly.  He put down the fork and tickled her again, and as she thrashed to get away from him, they both fell to the blanket, he on top of her writhing body.  He froze immediately, warning bells going off in his head as he settled in the cradle of her thighs.  Nia's eyes widened, and Harry knew she felt him hot and throbbing at her center.

She swallowed thickly, her throat oscillating from the action.  "Harry?"

His eyes were closed and he muttered, desperately trying to hold onto the feelings desperately trying to erupt.

"Nia?"

"I'm sorry . . ."

He peered at her then, clearly confused.  "For what, love?"

She stared at him for a moment before darting her eyes to the side.  "For being too young . . . for not being ready . . ."

Harry shook his head even as he captured her lips with his, putting all the tenderness he could muster in the gesture.  Her fingertips touched his cheek and caressed it lightly, and it was all he could do not to groan at the touch.

He broke the kiss and rested his forehead against hers, looking deep into her eyes.  "I can wait forever until you're ready, love.  We go your pace or no pace at all . . ."

She bit her lip and stared at his throat.  "But I feel things I—"

"What things?"  He'd muttered the words against her hairline and relished in her shiver.  Her legs opened more, probably to make herself more comfortable, but his member throbbed for the one place that was off limits to him.

She let out a whimper, and Harry felt a little relief to know she wasn't all that immune, either.  "It's embarrassing . . ."

"It's me, love, Harry . . . you don't need to feel embarrassed around me . . ."

She licked her lips and swallowed again, still refusing to meet his eyes.  "Grandma would be so disappointed if—"

He placed a finger on her lips and she looked at him with big, glassy eyes.  Admittedly he did _not_ want Jamilah or any other adult figure to come into this conversation—not while they were positioned the way they were, and definitely _not_ on a date!

"This isn't about your grandmother or anyone else who is not in this greenhouse.  This is about you, and me, and the 'things' you feel . . ."

She made a sound low in her throat and averted her gaze.  Harry would have none of that, however, and framed her face so her eyes would meet his.  "Harry . . ."

"What are you feeling, love?" he asked softly.

Her eyes closed and she took a deep breath.  "Tingly."

He frowned.  "Tingly?"

She bit her lip and nodded.  "Like I have to pee . . . but I know I don't because I went!"

Harry was dangerously close to 'flying off the handle', so to speak, and he dropped his head to hers to calm himself.  Nia, for all her innocence, was driving him insane.  All he wanted to do was slide his hand up and—

"Harry?"

"Yes, love."

"I . . ."

"Nia?"

She started pushing against him, and he saw panic rising in her eyes.  He rose from her and she sat up quickly, drawing her legs to her chest and resting her head on her knees.  Her face was away from him and he grew frustrated, but waited patiently for her to sort out whatever was bothering her.

It wasn't as if he couldn't use the space himself.  Things were escalating way too fast and too intensely.  His heart pumped furiously and beads of sweat were along his hairline.  He ran a shaky hand through his hair, feeling the strands stick up every which way.  His shirt was wrinkled and he unbuttoned the cuffs, pushing the sleeves up to allow the cool air hit his heated skin.

_Perfect?  Is _this_ what you call 'perfect', Potter?  You've perfectly fucked things up, I'll tell you!_

A sniffle caught his attention and Harry chanced a glance at the girl next to him.  Her shoulders shook lightly and he groaned.

"Nia baby," he murmured, scooting closer to her.  She drew herself tighter and shifted away from him, but Harry was undeterred.

She moved farther away and shook her head.  "I'm sorry . . ."

He didn't bother to ask why, because frankly he didn't care. "I'm the one who should be apologizing, Nia.  I'm the older one and I should've had more restraint . . . but woman you make _me_ feel things . . ."

"And I won't let you act on 'em," she sadly.

Harry pursed his lips and placed himself behind her, his legs on either side of hers and his hands at her waist.  Her body stiffened, but Harry refused to move.

"There's nothing to be ashamed about—"

"_But I want you to!_"

Whatever he was about to say disappeared from his mind.  Her confession surprised the hell out of him, and clearly her as well.

"Nia—"

"But I _don't_ want to, and I'm all confused and I'm afraid you're mad at me!  I don't want you to think I'm leadin' you on!"

He shook his head, resting his forehead against her temple.  He kissed her cheek, tasting the salt from her tears.

"I know you're not taking me for a ride, love.  What you're feeling is completely normal—"

She snorted and shook her head.  "Not for me it ain't!  I ain't supposed to want to—"

The sentence ended abruptly and Harry needed to know the rest of it.  "You're not supposed to do what?  What are you not supposed to do?"

Nia shrugged yet relaxed her body.  "Grandma told me to be a good girl and not get into trouble . . ."

"Do you think I'm trouble, Nia?" he asked and placed the softest kiss imaginable on her cheek.

"I know you are . . . I'm feelin' tingly again."

"You're feeling tingly?  I'm feeling hard."

"Harry!"

He was beyond playing nice.  Just to know she felt for him what he felt for her gave him enough incentive to be so bold.  He ground his pelvis into the small of her back and she began to tremble.

"You feel that, love?  There's only so much a bloke can do.  I said I won't force anything upon you, and I will _never_ do so.  But at the same time, I'm not going to pretend to be unaffected by you, because I can't."  Harry's hand grasped her ankles, only to travel underneath her skirt to her knees.

Her trembling became more violent. "Harry . . ."

His kisses were now at her neck.  "You're so bloody gorgeous, Nia . . . so bloody beautiful . . ."

She laughed hollowly.  "It's the skirt and the makeup."

"No . . ." he breathed, and his hand moved from her knee to her thigh.  He had half a mind to take off the skirt to _prove_ it wasn't what made her so beautiful to him . . . it was strictly her, only her . . .

Nia let out a low moan and he hardened even more.  Harry muffled a groan and kissed her bare shoulder.  Her skin was so soft to the touch and all he could think of was touching more.

"No Nia . . ." he murmured again, and moved his other hand to the bare skin of her stomach.  Her trembling became worse and she leaned further into him.  Nia took off her sandals with her feet and her toes curled into the blanket, desperate from anything to keep her rooted to the spot.

"Yes Harry," she moaned, unwittingly grinding her bum into his crotch, and Harry almost lost it.  He didn't know why she said yes, but he knew he wanted to hear her moan like that again.  His fingers danced across her inner thigh, and her skin was smooth and soft to the touch.  The skirt was now bunched against her waist, leaving her legs exposed.  She closed her legs, trapping his fingers.

"What is it, love?"

"I ache, Harry," she said brokenly.  His other hand moved to the underside of her breast and she whimpered.

"So do I, Nia," he whispered in her ear.

"I don't wanna ache . . ."

"I don't want you to, either, but the only ways to stop it is to keep going or stop all together.  I'll admit, Nia.  I don't want to stop . . . I don't want to stop touching you . . . _loving you . . ._"

She jerked her head from him and looked at him with wide, glassy eyes.  "What?"

He didn't answer, instead pressing his lips against hers in a demanding kiss.  Her mouth dropped open in shock and he slipped his tongue inside, moaning at the slide of her tongue against his.  Her hand cupped the back of his head and brought him closer.  Her legs fell open and Harry took this opportunity to feel the heat between her legs.

She was damp.

Harry groaned and she gasped, grasping the wrist of the naughty hand and squeezing.  Harry felt immediate shame at taking such liberties with her.  She was not some scarlet woman!

"I am _so sorry,_ love!  I'm so sorry!"

She buried her face in the crook of his neck, breathing heavily.  She hadn't moved their hands from between her legs and his fingers itched to feel her again.

"I'm wet down there, Harry!" she hissed.

He made a strangled sound between a sob and a chuckled and he exhaled harshly.  "You are . . ."

"Don't touch me there!  I'm so embarrassed!  Like I'm two or something and haven't been potty trained yet!"

It was then he realized she _really_ had no idea what she was feeling, and he admitted being a bit surprised.  "Nia . . . has Jamilah never given you 'the talk'?"

She shook her head.  "I think she's afraid to give it to me."

"Well have you talked with Ginny, or even Angelina about it?"  Another shake of the head.  Harry dropped his forehead on top of her head and sighed.  This would make things even more awkward and difficult.  The child was having a hands-on lesson about the birds and the bees and Harry was not the best teacher for the job.

_But rather me than some other bloke!_

"Why do I feel like this, Harry?  What's wrong with me?"

He clenched his jaw and puffed air through his nostrils.  "There's nothing wrong with you, but I think your grandmother would be a better person to answer that question, seeing as she's female and _your grandmother!_"

"Do you and Sirius have these discussions?" she asked with skepticism.

He chuckled.  "Most of the time he _starts_ them!  Sometimes it's all I can do to keep from blushing."  She moved her hand from his wrist to his fingers and entwined them with hers before relaxing her legs and moving their hands to her knees.  Harry moved his other hand from underneath her top to bring the skirt back over her legs . . . no matter how much he loved the sight of the smooth, chocolaty skin . . .

"You're hard again, Harry," she whispered, more as fact than anything else.

He gritted his teeth and nodded.  "That I am, love."

"I'm sorry."

"That's okay . . ."  Harry's eyes rolled to the back of his head and he almost collapsed when he felt her hand at his crotch.

"You want me to make it better?" she asked, peering at him with innocent golden eyes.  He closed his own and touched his forehead to hers, grasping her wrist and removing it from his lap.

"I'll manage . . . but thank you for the offer . . ." he said breathlessly.

"I may not have had 'the talk', but I _have_ heard girls talking about . . . _that . . ._"

He shook his head quickly.  "You have to be ready for it, too.  I can manage, Nia.  I said your pace or no pace at all, and I mean it.  You have to _want_ to do it completely, but I do appreciate your, uh, _compassion_ . . ."

She nodded forlornly.  "Perhaps we should leave before I embarrass myself further . . . it's almost nine-thirty anyway . . ."

She couldn't—_wouldn't_—leave like that: feeling dejected and inept.  Harry framed her face in his hands and kissed her firmly yet gently, infusing all of his feelings into the gesture.  She sighed against his lips and relaxed, grabbing his shirt and returning the kiss with equal enthusiasm.  He ended the kiss with smaller lighter ones until he pulled away completely and smiled.

"You're wonderful, Nia Roberts.  Don't ever forget that."

She smiled and stood, smoothing out the wrinkles on her skirt.  He stood as well and used his wand to pack up the picnic while she slipped on her sandals.  When he was done he offered a hand to her and she took it willingly, both walking to the castle in mutual silence.

They were at the dungeon stairs when she groaned, and he stopped in alarm.  "What?"

"Perhaps this date was a bad idea . . . what if someone saw us?"

He frowned.  "I'm not ashamed of you."

"Nor I you, but you know . . ."

He did know, and he didn't want to think about it.  "What's done is done.  If someone saw someone saw.  I don't regret this date, love."

She looked away shyly for a brief second, yet grinned.  "Some parts of it, yeah.  The date as a whole, not on your life."

He grinned as well, holding her other hand and drawing her flush against him.  "Perhaps we should do this again to see if we can have fewer regrettable parts."

She stood on her tiptoes and kissed his lips softly.  "I think I'd like that, Mr. Potter."

He kissed her again and wrapped his arms around her waist.  Hers went around his neck and they fell into the spell.

"_Hem, hem._"

Harry and Nia jumped apart, but she burrowed her face into his chest when they realized who interrupted them.  A smirking Malfoy had his arm around a highly amused Ginny, and it was all Harry could do not to throw a nasty hex in their direction.  He kissed Nia's temple to dampen her embarrassment.

"Give me a good reason why I shouldn't hex you into the middle of next week," he said to Malfoy.

Ginny rolled her eyes and clucked her tongue.  "Don't be like that, Harry!  It was my idea, anyway . . . I just couldn't resist!"

"Even if it wasn't, that is highly inappropriate—groping her as if she were a piece of meat!" Malfoy said with a sneer.

Ginny looked at the blonde incredulously.  "I _know_ you're not talking, Mister 'Too-Free-With-His-Hands!'"

Nia snickered and pulled away from Harry, kissing her fingers and placing them to his lips.  "Later," she murmured.

He pursed his mouth and nodded, missing the feel of her fingers when she pulled them away.  He watched Nia drag a scowling Malfoy down to Slytherin House and felt Ginny hook her arm through his.

She regarded him closely and he chuckled, kissing her forehead.  Ginny would not be deterred.  "You've got it bad, don't you Harry?"

He looked down the stairs again before leading them to Gryffindor.  "No, Ginny," he denied with a shake of his head.  "I've got it _good . . ._"


	14. Fourteen

_Fourteen_

"You gotta hit him harder than that, Ginny!  You think Set or Voldemort's gonna send you a love tap?  No!  You gotta hit him like it's a battle!"

Ginny looked at her partner helplessly and Draco made a sound of indignation and dropped his hands from his fighting stance.  "But this is _not_ a battle, and it's _me_ she's about to hit with a debilitating force!"

"Be appreciative this is a non-magical battle, boy!  And besides, ain't like she ain't gonna heal you later on, anyway!" Jamilah said with an arched eyebrow.  Ginny blushed furiously and Draco gulped visibly.

"But Jamilah . . . uh . . . can't you transfigure something so we can go full force?  I just can't bring myself to fight Draco so hard," Ginny said apologetically.  Draco gave her a grateful look and she smiled at him.

Jamilah frowned, then threw up her hands and rolled her eyes.  "Fine.  I'll transform the punching bags for a five-minute bout.  That should be long enough, no?"

Both students blew a breath of relief.  "More than long enough," Draco muttered, repositioning his hands.

"You want it shorter?"

"NO!" they yelled with wide eyes, then snickered when they realized Jamilah was kidding.  

"I swear I'm bein' too lenient with y'all . . ."

"But you love us!" Draco deadpanned, sending a wink to Ginny.  Jamilah rolled her eyes before transforming the punching bags into rather large apes.

_Apes?_

Draco and Ginny shared a skeptical look, but when an ape clocked him good against his face he realized it was no joke.  He was surprised the blow didn't send his cheekbone to the back of his throat, but he knew better than to lie there and allow another bone-crushing hit to his person, and rolled out the way as part of the floor caved in from the force of the attack.

_That could've been my stomach!_

He glanced over to see Ginny having a bit more luck, her body's flexibility and agility giving her an advantage over brute strength.  Draco felt a prickly sensation behind him and whirled away, dodging another punch.  It sent the ape off balance and Draco performed a roundhouse, connecting solidly with the furry, yet hard back.  Draco gritted his teeth and schooled his face not to grimace, but he knew he'd be feeling that hit in the morning.  His ape growled and came towards him with alarming speed, but Draco summoned nunchucks, bewildering his opponent as it looked at the blurring weapon in awe.  The ape's inattention allowed Draco to send a kick to its groin, and when it bent over, he used the nunchucks to send a blow to its temple.  The ape's roar sent sound waves through him, and he tremble not without a healthy dose of fear.  A similar outburst came from Ginny's ape and Draco's hackles were raised.

"Stay focused on your opponent, Draco!  She's a big girl—she can handle hers!" Jamilah yelled at him.

Draco growled.  He didn't care if Ginny was bloody invincible, he would always keep an eye on her . . . protect her—

Draco was sure bones cracked a big hairy fist hit his upper back, sending him sprawling ungracefully on the mat.  His face stung as he hit the plastic blue mat and let out a yell as a foot smashed on his ankle.  Draco rolled onto his back and targeted all of his energy into his fist; it began to glow sliver and he ran it through the ape's chest.  It let out a bloodcurdling scream, the blood streaming red before falling in fluffy white clouds to the mat.

"Boy!  You messed up a perfectly good punching bag!" Jamilah yelled, lifting it from him.  Draco glared at her, put out she cared more about a bloody punching bag than the broken bones he sustained in the fight.

"Ginger?"

The reply was long in coming, and when it did, it was breathy and halting.  "Where are you hurt?"

Her voice was coming closer as she spoke and Draco dropped his head, too tired to hold it up.  Ginny saved him the trouble, reclining him against her as she examined her back with light touches.  He winced and hissed as she brushed against his broken shoulder blade, and she made a low sound in the back of her throat.

"Be still," she murmured, and placing her hand rather firmly against his back muttered an incantation.  Before he could scream out in pain the bones melded together and his back felt better than it did before it was broken.

"What else?" she whispered, her breath tickling the skin at his hairline.  He dragged his eyes closed, taking a moment to enjoy her nearness, her chest against her back making him yearn for more than just her healing touch.

"My ankle needs attention," he said, snuggling closer and placing a kiss at her neck.  She shivered and he grinned.  Ginny moved to his feet and eased in a sitting position, gently lifting his injured foot.  The ankle swelled massively and she had a hard time taking off his trainers.  Draco sucked in a pained breath, falling back on his elbows and breathing heavily.  Fingers danced across his throbbing foot, and Draco concentrated on that rather than the unbearable pain from his broken ankle.  A low humming sound came from Ginny and it lulled him, before he knew it, to sleep.

When he awoke, it was to the sounds of splashing, and his body froze in panic.

"Relax, love . . . you're in a bath, that's all . . ."

He closed his eyes at the sound of Ginny's voice and the contact of her lips at his temple.  Sandalwood permeated his senses and the water was warm with a milky color to it.

"It's a healing balm Jamilah gave me to use on you.  Your muscles should stop aching and your bones stop hurting.  Is it working?"

He swallowed and sat straighter against him, licking his lips as he rested his head on her shoulder to look in her eyes.  "She's _allowing_ us to take a bath together?"

Ginny snorted and gave a smirk, picking up a washcloth and wringing the excess water out of it.  She ran it over his chest and Draco's eyes closes as the rough texture went over a nipple, drawing it to a hard peak.  "She knows this has not been the first time we've seen each other naked, Draco."

"And I hope _you_ know it won't be the last," he said huskily.  She chuckled and kissed his head.

"I hope you know, as well, Mr. Malfoy.  As soon as you become healthy again, I plan to have my share of fun . . ."

His member twitched and he exhaled lowly.  "I may have had broken bones, love, but not the one between my legs."

She laughed and nipped the shell of his ear.  "Possibly the most important one at the moment, no?"

Draco moaned as the washcloth and her hand covered him, stroking firmly.  The coarse fibers and Ginny's knowing hand threatened to send him over the edge, and he gripped her wrist earnestly.  "As much as I love what you're doing, Ginger, I'm afraid I don't have the energy to return the favor."

"I'm just washing you as I was told—'Make sure you get to all of his bones, Ginny,' Jamilah said."

He growled, turning his head and sucking the skin over her pulse point.  Her nipples hardened against his back and he snuggled into her.  The washcloth dropped in the tub as Ginny brought his face to hers and kissed him hard.  Draco shoved his tongue in her mouth and swirled it against hers.  Her hand cupped his face and his cupped the heavy weight of her breast.  His thumb caressed the nipple and he relished in her shiver.

"Mmm . . . Nia's a stronger girl than I, for I'm ready to throw you down and have my naughty way with you . . ."

Draco's eyes popped open and he pulled away.  "What?"

Ginny's eyes went wide and she gasped.  "Oh damn . . ."

He moved his entire body away then and glared at her.  "What do you mean 'Nia's a stronger girl?'  Did Potter put his filthy hands on her?"

Ginny bit her lip and blinked rapidly, looking at the ceiling, the walls, anywhere but him.  Draco gripped the bathtub's sides, feeling the ceramic melt under his hands in his ire.  "I'll kill him.  I'm going to fucking kill Harry Potter!"

He stood quickly only to have his legs give way.  He fell hard in the tub, sinking underneath the water and taking some inside is lungs.  He gasped and surged to the surface, wiping heavy strands of hair from his eyes and sputtering.

"Serves you bloody right, Draco Malfoy!  You leave him alone!" Ginny snarled.  Draco rested against the tub's side, breathing erratically as his body recovers from overexertion.

"How could he touch her?  _How?_  She's bloody fourteen years old!  And this date happened almost three weeks ago!  How could she not _tell _me this?  There's no bloody way I'm letting randy-arsed Harry Fucking Potter _see_ her let alone _touch_ her!"

Ginny rolled her eyes and crossed her arms at her chest.  Draco's eyebrows quirked as her rosy nipples bobbed above the water's surface, contrasting intriguingly with its milky color.

"Quit staring at my chest, or I won't let randy-arsed Draco Fucking Malfoy see _me_ let alone _touch_ me!"

Flint-eyes widened and he gaped at her.  "Ginny!"

She shook her head and held out a hand to still his words.  A frown marred her features and her skin was flushed pink from the hot water and probably annoyance.  "You're acting like Ron right now!  At least Harry was a gentleman enough to _stop,_ because there would've been plenty of men who _wouldn't_ have and Merlin knows what could've resulted from that . . ."

Draco glared at the water faucet, upset she compared him to Weasel, but more upset because she was right.  There was no other bloke he'd trust other than Potter to treat Nia as she should be, and that fact burned him.

"I should've told the bloke he couldn't take her out," he muttered, his frown deepening.  He heard her wade through the water and come to his side.  Her palm was cool as it touched his face.  He looked at her, her eyes warm pools of chocolate with a sprinkle of mirth.  She smiled and wrapped her arms around his neck, drawing his lips to hers.  It was a light, chaste kiss, and he brought his hand to cup her elbow.

"I love you Draco . . . so much . . . and despite what my brothers and other people say, I'm going to be with you until my dying breath.  What makes you think Nia doesn't feel the same toward Harry?"

He dropped his forehead to hers and took a deep breath.  He knew she spoke sense, but that didn't stop him from wanting to beat Potter to a bloody pulp.

"Can you help me up?" he whispered against her skin.  She pulled back and gave him a skeptical look.

"I promise I won't hurt him . . ." he said wearily.

Ginny sighed and pulled herself out of the water.  Water hugged every curve as it ran down her body, and he felt envious of it.

"You make a man lose his bloody mind," he moaned resting against the side of the tub and covering his eyes with his hand.  It was torture watching her and he not being able to do anything about it.  Arms came around his neck and squeezed and she kissed his cheek.

"Funny . . . I didn't know a penis had brains to lose . . ."

He laughed then, a fully, echoing bellow that bounced against the tiles and woke the mermaid from her slumber.  It tossed them an annoyed look that Draco returned with a smirk.  Ginny tsked in his ear as she helped him stand.

"You know she's right moody, Draco," she chastised gently.  He turned in her arms, bringing her body flush against him.  Every curve and crevice fitted against his strong, lean frame and she sighed, burrowing her head under his chin.  Draco chuckled and wrapped the towel around them both.

"As much as I enjoy standing like this, Ginger, I can't for extended periods of time.  I need to sit."

"Do you need me to carry you?"

He gave her a sharp look.  "I can manage walking, thank you, I just need assistance."

"You can always lean on me," she said with a wink.  Draco swallowed a groan at her corniness and summoned his clothes.  They dressed in silence and made deliberate speed to the dungeons.

"Maybe Snape has some Potions that will make you feel better," Ginny said as she held the door open for him.  

Snape was at his desk, shuffling through parchment and scribbling hurriedly with his phoenix-feather quill.  It was an iridescent green reflected only silver shafts of light.  It was one of the more phenomenal quills Draco ever saw.

"Mr. Malfoy, Miss Weasley, how may I help you on this rather quiet night?" he drawled without looking at them.

"Draco got beat up by an ape and he needs some Potions to make him feel better," Ginny said sweetly, rubbing Draco's back.

Draco sneered, determined to get Little Weasel back for that.  Snape regarded him with amused curiosity.  "I do not think I want to know why."

"The how or why is not important, only that my ankle and back are smarting and I'd like for it to stop."

Snape's eyebrow rose, but went back to his files.  Draco gritted his teeth and sat a desk gingerly.  Ginny sat beside him and rested her head on his uninjured shoulder and he allowed her to keep it there.  He wasn't so petty to exact his revenge by denying her the comfort of his touch.  Nevermind he enjoyed just as much, and probably more than she.

"There's a blue flask of potion in my office—on the potions case in the far corner of the right wall, Mr. Malfoy, which should help alleviate the pain.  Two drops and two drops only, is what you need.  If the pain it isn't fully gone in an hour let me know."

"Could you get it for me, love?" he asked sweetly.  She nodded and went to the office.  Draco smirked, listening to glasses clink together as she search for the right potion.  He planted his hands on the desk, staring at his professor.

"What did Nia tell you about the date?" Draco asked a little louder than necessary.  The clinking in the office became softer and the quill slowed its movements.

"She said she had a good time."

_Excellent._

Draco snorted.  "I'll bet Potter had an even better time, but as long as Little One is happy and you know she's happy, I won't worry you further."  He shrugged and noted with amusement the clinking had stopped all together.

Snape blinked.  "How _much_ fun did Mr. Potter have?"

"Here it is!" Ginny answered, holding up the flask triumphantly and walking quickly to Draco.  "C'mon, love.  Let's get you some of this potion so you can feel better!"  She grasped his arm to help him stand but he remained planted in his seat.

"Anymore fun and she could've had a mini-Potter in nine months."

It was extremely quiet and still at his comment, and Ginny dropped his arm in defeat.  "_Draco . . ._" she moaned softly.

The quill in Snape's hand trembled violently for a quick second before becoming alarmingly still.  He placed it on the desk and stood from his chair with graceful fury, the sounds of woods scraping against stone grating Draco's ear.  Snape opened the secret passageway to Sirius's room, but Draco's cousin was not there.

"Wonderful . . . I think Jamilah would like to know exactly what her paramour is teaching his young charge," Snape said silkily, the only indication of his anger the deep crease between his eyes.  His steps were firm and stride was long as he walked out of the classroom, too intent on his goal to close the door.

Draco folded his hands on the desk and stared ahead, waiting for the torrent that was sure to come.

"You bloody, no good, vindictive _prat!_"

He grinned, relishing in her ranting, and took the potion.  He made a face at the bitter taste of it, but soon became more interested in the redhead before him.  She was marching and stopping every where—behind his desk, Snape's desk, to just about every wall in the room—even saved some particularly naughty words for his ear alone—and the entire time she was flailing her arms and prattling passionately.  

Right about the time he was a lily-livered poopoo-head Draco interrupted, "Do you know how randy you're making me right now?"

She stopped and stared at him, one arm lifted to the sky and the other held at her side.

"I cannot believe you," she said quietly.

"I don't know why?  It's not like you haven't made me randy before . . ."

She looked at him as if he sprouted a tail and began to bunny hop around the room.

"Do you know what you've just done?"

He hunched forward, his grin widening.  "Earn Potter a visit with a Papa and a shotgun."

"What?"

"Muggle thing . . ."

She crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow.  "What in the world would you know about Muggle things?"

"My best friend was raised Muggle, I pick up a few things . . ."

"Well what's Muggle for 'not getting any for a long while?'"

"A very bad joke."

She glared at him.  "What makes you think I'm telling a joke?"

"Because you can't resist me, love."

She laughed and looked away from him.  "I can _so_ resist you Draco . . . it is you who cannot resist _me_ . . ."

He lifted an eyebrow and reclined in the chair.  "Care to make a little wager on that?"

She stared at him a moment before grinning.  "I'm game . . ."

Draco tilted back his head and rubbed his chin.  "If I win . . . you have to—"

"If I win you have to walk around only in a Gryffindor tie and skirt bare bum, and moon everyone whenever I give a signal," Ginny said with a large grin.  She waggled her eyebrows up and down and he shook his head.

"No bloody way!"

"If you can resist me, then you have nothing to worry about!"  She batted her eyelashes and gave him a big grin.  Draco frowned, drumming his fingers on the desk.  He needed to think—she would have to do something mortifying when he won the bet.  Suddenly he grinned.

"If I win, Ginger, you have to sing "Draco is My King—lyrics provided by me of course—as you strip to your underwear whilst standing on the table in front of me."

She frowned.  "That's it?"

"Oh, how silly of me . . . all of this will be done during dinner in the Great Hall."

Her mouth dropped open and she blanched.  "I can't do that!  Ron would kill me, not to mention lose points for Gryffindor!"

Draco rolled his eyes and waved his hand negligently.  "As if Potty, Weasel, and Granger won't get them all back saving the world or what have you.  So, do you accept?"

"So, the first one to what loses?"

Draco shrugged.  "I guess the first one to admit defeat."

She snorted.  "Do you honestly think one of us will do that?"

He grinned, and reveled in her slight flush.  "One of us will get randy enough, and we'll admit it."

"I guess that means no shagging, huh."

"That doesn't mean we can't try . . ."

"But you can't resist me, Draco."

"And here is the entire point of the bet, love—to prove I can."

Ginny dropped her hands and sauntered to him, straddling his lap and wrapping her arms around his neck.  She wiggled her hips and Draco muffled a moan.  His hands itched to wrap around her waist to grind her into him and his breathing became erratic.

"Looks like I'm about to win a bet," she whispered in his ear before trailing the curve of it with his tongue.  He sucked in a breath, but decided to turn the tables on her.

His hands ran up her smooth thigh until he felt the elastic in of her knickers.  She was so warm and his fingers grazed lightly over the cotton covering her.  Ginny bit his ear and he chuckled.

"Who's about to win a bet, now?"

Her hand went to his groin and squeezed.  She chuckled at his muffled moan.  "Still me."

And as long as she kept doing that, he'd half figured he'd more than welcome her victory.  As it was he barely controlled the urge to set her on the desk and shag her senseless.  The potion had effectively stopped his aches and pains and he was good as new.

But he was a Slytherin, and Slytherins had more tactics than fair ones.  Let her think she had the upper hand (or was it brilliant hand?), while he implemented his "underhanded" tricks.  His lips went to her neck, dropping dew-light kisses along her column.  She began to growl low in her throat and he smiled.  Ginny was very tense, trying not to tremble in his arms.  Once she started to tremble, it was all over.  She knew that, and he knew that.

_All I have to do is brush my finger against her—_

_~I.  Am.  Going.  To.  _Kill._  You!~_

Draco sighed and dropped his head to her shoulder.  He could feel Nia's anger as strongly as if she were in the room.  Ginny had stopped stroking him and got off his lap, a half-shameful look on her face.

"Harry?" he asked tiredly, running a hand down his face.

She nodded.  "He said he was going to tell Ron where I go after Prefects Meetings."

"If he hasn't figured it out yet, he doesn't deserve to know," Draco drawled, leaning on the back two legs of his chair, retaining balance by holding onto the desk.  Ginny sat on it, the skirt barely reaching her knees.

"I should've never let it slip—"

"You should've.  Harry went way too far with her on that."

"He's normal, straight boy who had a very attractive girl with him—"

"_Who is underage!_"

Ginny snorted, not vocalizing the hypocrisy of that statement.  "You don't count," he said quickly.

"Oh that makes me feel better!  I don't count!"  Ginny jumped from the desk and walked away from him.

Ginny—_his_ Ginny—did _not_ just have a girl moment.  He refused too believe his Ginger threw a tantrum like he saw Pansy do numerous times when she didn't get her way.

"Ginny . . ."

"No!  How can you _say_ that, _especially_ when Nia is in the same position!"

"The difference between fourteen and sixteen is astounding psychologically—surely you know that!  Besides, we had a magical excuse!"

"And you don't think _they_ don't have one either?  If any two people were shafted over and over again, it was Apedemak and Aset!  What makes you think that now, after _millennia_ of being apart, they wouldn't jump at the chance to be together again?"

Draco was getting a headache.  Her logic was sound and it annoyed him.  "She's still too young."

"Which is why nothing happened.  Harry knows what he's doing—"

"But Nia doesn't."

"Someone will have to teach her, then."

Draco looked at her horrified.  "_I'm_ not going to do it!  I'm not her mother!"

Ginny giggled, covering her mouth.  "Could you just _imagine_ Snape giving Nia the sex talk?"

He made a disgusted face.  "I'd rather not, thanks."

She huffed and waved his comment away.  "_C'mon_ Draco!  I think it would be funny!"

Draco really tried to keep his face serious, but the image of a very pale and stuttering Snape proved too comical to deny.  "He'll probably give her a De-Randying Potion to save himself the trouble!"

"Is there such a thing?"

"Probably not, but knowing Snape, he'd figure something out . . ."

She laughed and it tickled the glass flasks around the room, chiming like a bell.  "Either that or maybe he'd make you do it."

"He better not."

"Oh why not?  You're the one who brought it up in the first place."

"It had to be."

"And since you seem so concerned about her 'virtue', why not you to discuss the birds and the bees?  Not like you haven't had any 'practicals' in the matter . . ."

He scowled at her before resting his head in his hands.  "Jamilah should've done it."

"She may still—just don't be surprised if Nia comes to and asks 'what are birds and bees?'"

"She's fourteen not _four_," he drawled.

Ginny smiled and looked off to space.  Her cheeks were still flushed from earlier . . ah . . . _activities_ and her brown eyes reflected the candlelight.  Wisps of hair brushed her shoulders as her shoulders shook with her chuckles.  

Her beauty awed Draco.

She cast him a shy glance before looking at the far wall again.  "Believe it or not Percy gave me the talk."

He was the last person Draco would've pinned to do the job.  "Really."

She glanced his way and shrugged.  "Well not _technically._  He was giving Fred and George the talk when they were talking about Angelina's bits one day—"

"She has rather nice bits, love."

She whirled towards him.  "What are you doing looking at them?"

Draco rolled his eyes, a smirk forming.  "I'm not blind, love.  A Malfoy's taught to appreciate fine things."

"So now she's a thing?"

Ginny could be the death of him at times, and this was one of them.  "Ginny . . ."

"Fine.  Whatever."

Draco heard the pout in her voice, and by the way her back faced him, he knew she was more perturbed than he initially thought.  Quelling a sigh he went to her, wrapping his arms around her waist.

"Ginny . . ."

She didn't answer, but she didn't pull away from him either.  Draco thought that was a good step.

"The last time I appreciated a girl's bits that wasn't yours was before the first time I kissed you.  After that, everyone else's bits paled compared to yours . . ."

Her shoulders began to shake, and he thought he made her cry.  Alarmed he turned her to face him, tilting her bent head to his.  She had her eyes closed and her lip between her teeth.

_Oh bugger._

He was about to say words of comfort when a highly un-ladylike snort came.  His brows furrowed, and her shaking shoulders became more violent.

"'_Everyone else's bits paled compared to yours?!_'  Ooh that's just _rich!_  Oh, I'm going to have to tell Nia that!"

He dropped his hand from her and glared.  "You will tell her no such thing!"

"And Hermione, and _Harry!  _Harry will _love—_"

He shut her up the only way he knew how—planting his lips over hers.  Ginny returned the embrace enthusiastically.  She melded with him so perfectly, and he could feel her curves so totally, he was dangerously close to shagging her where they stood.

_She's bloody right!  I can't resist her!_

"Is that bloody bet still on?" he asked breathlessly when they parted.  "I don't think I can take it without touching you."

She ran her hand through his hair and he trembled.  "I don't really know if I fancy you showing that arse for all the world to see.  It's mine and mine alone."

He hummed and captured her lips again, glad she wasn't going to follow through with the bet.  "You're so damn sexy when you're possessive . . ."

"And you're just sexy, period."

He smirked.  "This is what I know."

She grinned and kissed his lips, jaw, cheek, and the skin underneath his earlobe.  "Also know this—bottoms up."

**

Severus burst into the DADA classroom, the door slamming against the wall twice from the force.  The training students snapped their heads to him, and the boy blanched as he realized who was the focus of the anger.

"What are you doing here _Snape?_" Sirius snarled, dropping his propped up legs from the desk and giving him a menacing look.

Severus ignored him.  Black could wait.  "Potter . . . a word . . . or several."

Nia stepped in front as if to protect him, but Potter pulled her behind.  Severus all but rolled his eyes at that.  He as going to kill _Potter,_ not _Nia . . ._

"What is the meanin' of this?!  You can't just _barge _in here like a—"

"Did you know Mr. Potter has been _very_ inappropriate with your granddaughter, Jamilah?"  The older woman's eyes widened and looked toward the students in the center of the room.  This time Nia tried to step behind Potter, but he move back instead.

"Nia?"

Severus could feel the young girl's panic and he intervened.  "I believe your anger is directed to the wrong party, Jamilah.  Of course, had you educated your granddaughter about randy little boys I would not have gotten the report that had Mr. Potter been 'less than upstanding', there would be a new Potter coming in nine months so to speak."

"You daft _prick!_  How _dare_ you accuse Harry like that?!"

Jamilah looked as if she was going to be sick, and he was glad someone shared his mood.  The air became charged.  Severus saw Nia's weapon glow gold and Potter was rubbing her back to calm her.  Both had looks of anger and humiliation on their face.

"Don't you have anything to say for yourself, Potter?" he intoned lowly.

"We didn't do anything!"

Severus cut his eyes to the ceiling and worried the cuffs on his sleeves.  "I _know_, Potter; didn't I just I just _say_ that?!"

Nia stepped toward Severus with a plaintive look.  "But he didn't mean to!  I—"

"Nia, it's okay.  I can handle him."

Severus snorted.  "Right.  All I'm doing is protecting my daughter's honor—something you seem so keen on taking."

Potter's jaw was clenched and his face was turning red.

"Daddy!"

"Snape—a _word!_" Black said lowly.  Severus pinned Potter with one last look before going to the boy's godfather.

"You two are dismissed—to your _own_ houses!" Jamilah said with a pointed look.  The students put up their weapons and walked out of the room with hands held.  Severus followed them with his eyes, taking a little bit of pleasure at the tension in Potter's back.  Nia begged him with his eyes to be sympathetic.

"Actually—don't leave.  Wait outside.  I think I may want to talk to both of you," Severus said lowly.  The teens continued to walk, but their stutter steps indicated they heard him.  It was quiet for a few moments after the door closed behind Nia and Harry.

"Snape!"

He turned slowly to the simmering man before him.  Jamilah still had a dazed expression on her face and she gripped the desk.

"I don't understa—"

"Have you ever told Nia about sex, Jamilah?"

She turned pale, an incredible feat for someone her skin tone.  "She's only fourteen years old!"

"And she's only in a relationship with a _seventeen_ year old boy!  Boys—no matter if it _is_ The-Boy-Who-Lived—have one thing on their minds:  sex!"  Black opened his mouth but Severus cut him off.  "I dare you to challenge that statement, Black!"

Jamilah groaned, putting one hand on a jutted hip and the other on the bridge of her nose.  "She's _just fourteen years old!_"

"Yes, but her body is _not_ that of a fourteen year old.  She's very developed for her age, Jamilah, and with that "apparent" development, there will be certain . . . _assumptions_ made and boys—including Potter—might want to make good on those assumptions," Severus said wearily, sitting on a desk.

Sirius had his arms crossed and a perpetual glare directed at Severus.  Severus returned it with an even look, refusing to be "intimidated" by Potter's godfather.  It's _his_ charge that dared compromise _his_ daughter, and he wouldn't stand for it—no matter how much "genuine affection" the boy had for her.

"Harry is a good man," Black said with a dark look.

"He's a randy boy.  And he's attracted to _my_ daughter.  Therein lies the problem.  As it was he could hardly keep is hands off of her throughout his entire defense of himself."

"Nia was doing her fair share of touching as well," Black pointed out.

Snape looked at him with raised eyebrows and leaned forward slightly.  "What exactly are you saying, Black?  Are you insinuating she's leading him on?"

Black didn't say anything, though Severus thought that had more to do with the menacing look Jamilah had directed at him.  The other man shuffled nervously, giving Jamilah a placating smile.

"Jam—"

"_Do_ you think she's leadin' him on?"

"_NO!_  I-I mean, of _course_ not!  How could you ever—"

Severus snorted.  "You think Potter can do no wrong, that's why—you and the rest of this bloody school."

Black's lips pursed into a fine line.  "I'm just saying times are different.  Kids are younger and younger when they decide to take relationships to the 'next level.'"

"And how does one—who's spent until recently the past thirteen years of his life imprisoned—_know_ about 'kids these days'?"  Severus asked with an arched eyebrow.

"Harry and I talk and—"

"Is the boy still a virgin?"

"I'm not going to answer you that!"

Severus gave a sardonic chuckle.  "If the reported behavior any indication—then _no_, he's _not_ a virgin . . . pity the poor girl who had to break him in . . ."

Black was turning red.  "Oh, you mean the same pity I bestowed upon Malika who broke _you_ in?"

"Stop it!  _Both_ of you!  Those are my _children_ y'all speakin' of so casually!"

Both men had the decency to look ashamed, though Severus though he had righteous indignation on his side.

"Yes, but my situation with Malika, we both waited until she was _of_ _age,_ after she discussed it with _her mother_; after we were both _on the same page_.  I did not take advantage of her.  Harry took liberties."

"How would you know?  Did you even _discuss_ it with him?"

Severus raised his eyebrows.  "Good point.  POTTER!"

The door creaked open and the teen walked inside, head high, shoulders squared—every bit the obnoxious Gryffindor.  Severus sighed and stood next to the adults.

"Have a seat," he said, not unlike the voice he used during his own lessons.  Potter shifted his eyes between the three of them and did as he was told, folding his hands on top of the desk, his posture still impeccable.

No one spoke, instead regarding each other and making mental notes.  Potter's eyes did not stray from the three of them, nor did he fidget.  Severus gave him credit for being firm and confident despite the inquisition he was about to face—from him, anyway.

It was the boy who broke the silence.  "You wanted to see me, Professor?"

It was polite and to the point, so full of censure and annoyance that Severus's lip curled.

"What _exactly_ happened almost a month ago on your date with my daughter—and do not lie to me, Potter.  I have ways of finding out."

"If you mean slipping Veritaserum in a potion I have to test, I would say how Slytherin of you."

Black snorted and Jamilah groaned softly.  "Fifteen points from Gryffindor for that, Potter.  And in case you've forgotten, the young girl you are dating _is_ a Slytherin."

"Even more reason to think she's capable of leading Potter on!" Black said passionately.

"Sirius!" two voices yelled.  Snape glared daggers.

"That is _my_ grandchild!  I ain't raise her to be no floozy!"

Severus smirked.  "Take foot, insert in mouth, chew _thoroughly¸_ then swallow." 

"Piss off, _Snivellus!_"

Potter was glaring at his godfather.  "I can't believe you said that!  This is _Nia _for Merlin's sake!  She didn't know what was happening to her!"

"What _was_ happening to her?"

Potter closed his mouth with a snap and swallowed.  Severus arched an eyebrow, anticipating the moment where he'd do a Black and eat his foot.

"Ah . . . uh . . .well ah—"

"I don't _think_ I wanna know!" Jamilah said, waving her hands in front of her face.

Severus frowned; _knowing_ he didn't want to know!  As it was Potter sat there, his face very red and his brows furrowed.

"Well?  What happened?" Black asked, any semblance of tact gone.

Severus clenched his fists and stomped down the urge to strangle the man.

Potter wore a pained expression.  "We were kissing and then . . . _things_ happened . . ."s

"What kinds of things—"

"That is _none_ of your business!  Sirius!  What _are _you on about?" Potter said, standing with such force the chair fell back.

Severus wanted to know as well; for though Black was usually uncouth and randy, it was never like this; especially with regard to his lover's granddaughter!

"I'm just saying with a girl like that—"

"A girl like _what?!_  She's the most perfect thing—she would _never_ do something like that!  And really; lead me on for what?  What would she have to gain by—"  Potter stopped abruptly, giving Black a cautious look.  "Sirius . . . why are you shrinking?"

And he was, though he didn't get too much shorter from his original height.  He gained around sixty pounds in as many seconds, bursting the seams of his trousers.  The long, dark hair with strands of gray became buzz cut and the man's face became pudgy.

Severus drew his wand quickly and pointed it at the transformed man.  "Suspension, Mr. Crabbe, and 150 points from Slytherin."

"TRAITOR!" Crabbe yelled even as he eyed Severus's wand warily.  Potter's shock gave way to ire and he moved in front of the desk.

"You piece of despicable shit!  You stinking _pervert!_  _Where is he?_"

Potter's fists were glowing green and Crabbe's eyes widened.  Severus even admitted the display was impressive, but if Potter didn't cool it, he'd do something irrevocably rash.

"No _wonder_ Nia was behaving so oddly; she even said something was off!" Potter muttered as he began to pace.

"How long have you known?" Severus asked, ignoring the mumbling Boy-Who-Lived.

"Since Potty and her went on that date.  Things were getting pretty hot and heavy—"

"You _spied_ on us?!" Potter gasped.

"You're right, Professor—she _doesn't _have a fourteen year old body.  I wouldn't mind having a go at her; even if she _is_ a Mudblood nig—OUCH!"

Jamilah was squeezing the hell out of Crabbe's ear and her mouth was clenched.  "You talk about my grandchild _one mo' time;_ you call her out her name _one mo' time_—I swear to all that is holy I will hurtcha where the sun don't shine—got it?"

By then Crabbe was on his knees, desperately trying to free himself from Jamilah's grip.  This was not good, and Severus knew it.  How long had Crabbe suspected, been a spy?  He could be in danger—they all could—and the only way to find that out was with Veritaserum.

Severus kept his wand trained on Crabbe yet spoke to Potter.  "Get Dumbledore, and tell him to bring a vial of Veritaserum."

The younger boy was breathing heavily, but it couldn't disguise the pure hate coming from his voice.  "You are a _traitor!_"  Severus rolled his eyes, not confirming nor denying the accusation.  "The Dark Lord will be alerted to this!"

Severus tried to drum up enough emotion to care—he really did—but he was found wanting.  "Considering you probably will not be leaving my _sight_ let alone this castle for a while; I'd like to see you try."

Crabbe's eyes grew wild and he continued to struggle with Jamilah.  "Was she a good shag?  The nigger bitch you had to fuck to conceive Nia?"

He'd never struck a student, but he was dangerously close to doing so now.  Jamilah twisted Crabbe's ear and he howled in pain.

"Don't call _my daughter_ outside her name, either.  Or me.  Matta fact—just shut up!"

Crabbe shot her a menacing look but she rolled her eyes.  The door slammed open and entered Dumbledore, Potter, Nia, and Snuffles.  Though it was obvious Crabbe knew about Black's return, Severus hoped the escaped convict would stay in his Animagus form.

Dumbledore was grim and formidable; even Severus felt a tremor of trepidation.  Crabbe's flimsy bravado all but collapsed at the sight of the headmaster, and Dumbledore's usually mirthful blue eyes were fierce and frightening.

The wizard did not speak, instead letting his eyes do all the talking.  Crabbe seemed to shrink with each passing second, and Severus lowered his wand; knowing Crabbe would much rather face Severus's path or even Nia's if it didn't mean a meeting with Dumbledore.

_Well, maybe not Nia in four years . . . if Crabbe _is_ a threat next year . . ._

"What do you have to say for yourself, Mr. Crabbe?"

Crabbe drew back his shoulders and looked at Dumbledore squarely.  "You can go to hell—you and the rest of your Gryffindoric lot!  And take Snape with you!"

Dumbledore looked over his shoulder at Severus with a mildly surprised expression.  "Had he always been this articulate and passionate?"

"Not in recent memory, Headmaster," Severus said lowly.  Crabbe's face was less pinched than earlier, which lead Severus to believe Jamilah wasn't squeezing his ear anymore.  Snuffles was sitting at Jamilah's legs; growling at Crabbe.

"Regardless of your desires, Mr. Crabbe, you've committed some serious offenses here—the main of which was the illegal use of Polyjuice to hurt a student."

Severus frowned, a bit bitter by this.  The Golden Trio used Polyjuice their second year to "incriminate" Draco as the Heir of Slytherin—he was definitely sure they didn't receive this declaration!

"That has been banned since Voldemort's new resurrection, Severus.  It was one of the first laws that actually passed—before Fudge defected to him, that is . . . ."

"He's the best Minister of Magic we've ever had!" Crabbe stated emphatically.

Severus scowled.  "He's an ambitious arse who thinks with the wrong head."

Crabbe smirked.  "You mean like Malfoy—trailing away after some poverty-stricken Gryffindor slut?  Or like you, who decided to throw it all away on _her?!_"

Nia held Potter back; though his hands glowed green again, her placating touch calmed him.

"You daft prick!" Potter snarled.

"Bitter because you didn't get any?  Potty, I would've gone for it!  Roberts is every boy's _dream_—stupid and willing to put out!  She even offered you a _hand job!_  If that were me, I would've made it a _blowjob!_"

Suddenly Crabbe's head snapped back and he gave a painful look to Dumbledore.  His blue eyes were blazing fury and he himself had barely controlled magic flowing.

"You will show the young lady _respect,_ Mr. Crabbe."  Dumbledore said no more after that; not that it was necessary.  Severus was sure his charge understood the consequences of not following Dumbledore's orders; and he didn't think Crabbe would be daft enough to push his luck.

Severus looked to Nia and her head was bowed.  Potter was on his knees beside her, trying to coax her to look at him.  After Crabbe's embarrassing revelations, Potter should know she wouldn't want to see him!

"Let her alone, Potter; she doesn't want to be bothered."

Potter gave him a scowl yet did as told.  He scooted a seat next to hers and caressed her cheek, no, wiped away her tears.

Crabbe would pay for humiliating his daughter.

"Drink this, Mr. Crabbe."

"I will tell my father of this!" he threatened.

"Your father is a coward who knows better than to pick a fight with the wizard the Dark Lord _himself_ fears!"  The younger boy blanched.

"Take the serum, Mr. Crabbe," Dumbledore ordered again, only this time his tone left no room for refusal.  Grudgingly Crabbe downed the vial's contents, wincing as the serum went down his throat.  His eyes glazed over before clearing again, though his arms crossed and a glower permanently etched itself on his face.

"Ask him some good questions," Jamilah said, her hold still firm on his ear.  Snuffles nodded, then rubbed his head against Jamilah's calf.

Dumbledore cleared his throat.  "How did you get the fibers to change into Mr. Black."

"I was tailing Nia and I saw him walking with Professor Roberts . . . I brushed against him and I got a hair sample," he all but muttered.

"How long have you known him to be here?"

"Since the beginning of this year."

"Do you know who Nia is?"

"She's a Mudblood nigger bitch who has abnormal superpowers . . . I think the Dark Lord would like to know of this—especially since she ruined Malfoy and is close to Potty."  Severus breathed a sigh of relief; at least Crabbe didn't know _why_ she was so powerful.

Dumbledore gave Severus a cautious look before continuing.  "Have you told anyone what you know?"

"No."

Severus thought that odd.  Why would Crabbe sit on a piece of information like that?

"Why did you not tell anyone?"

"It was to be used as a bargaining chip against Potter . . . and Snape."

Severus rolled his eyes.  "You've sorely misjudged yourself, then."

Crabbe smirked.  "You forget I still know."

"You two may leave," Dumbledore said to Nia and Potter.  "Take Snuffles with you."

"Making them leave won't erase my memory!" Crabbe cackled as the three left.

Severus curled a lip and pointed his wand at him.  "_Obliviate!_"

Crabbe's head jerked back and he blinked his eyes rapidly.

"Can you please tell me, Mr. Crabbe, _why _were you snooping around the DADA class?" Dumbledore asked with an arched eyebrow.  "Listening in on faculty discussions could land you in detention—"

"No—they _will_ land him in detention.  Every week for the rest of the semester I daresay is enough."

Crabbe shot up, fire in his eyes.  "That's _bloody_ unfair!"

"Life's not fair, Mr. Crabbe.  You may go."

He still was out of sorts, and Severus hoped Potter, Nia, and Black were far enough ahead not to draw Crabbe's memory.  The three remaining adults said nothing for a moment and looked at each other silently.

"He knows more than he says he does."

"You know he can only answer truthfully; not necessarily voluntarily give information," Dumbledore reminded.

"What does that mean for my grandbaby, then?" Jamilah asked, a hand at her throat.

Severus shook his head, and wiped his face wearily.  "I'm not sure; but I do know my time is running out . . . and possibly Nia's too."

Jamilah's eyes widened.  "You're not saying—"

"I said it last year and I'll say it again:  one of us will be exposed soon."

Dumbledore's face was grim and he shook his head slowly.  "I fear . . . I fear one of you already has."


	15. Fifteen

_Fifteen_

She woke up with a gasp, her body tensing harshly before she willed her muscles to relax and sink into the mattress of her bed. She put her fist to her heart as she flung the covers from her legs and swung them over the edge of the bed, the soft cotton of her bedspread gave a quiet thud as they fell in a heap where she threw them.

She took deep breaths—eyes closed—and chanted a calming incantation she thought took too damn long to work. The dream seemed so real . . . the laughter grating her tender eardrums and the look of horror on his face as that monster's hand came down—

"_Don't touch me!_" she screamed as a warm hand clamped her shoulder, and she jumped off the bed, her body trembling from fright and confusion. Tears were streaming down her cheeks and her hands went to them as she shook her head, trying to keep all the badness and fear away from her.

"Love, what happened?"

His eyes were fully alert and dilated, his body coiled for action. The sheet fell away to reveal the boxer shorts he wore to bed that night—a deep red with pink hearts she gave him as a gag gift.

_You're safe . . . you're safe . . ._

She sucked in a large breath as she wiped her tears before dropping her hands and balling them into tight fists. She hadn't had a dream like that in years, but whenever she did, something big was going to happen.

"Jamilah . . ." he said, now on his knees as he crawled to the edge of the bed. Jamilah bit her lip and went to him, her fingers trailing over his face, then the hair that lined his jaw, chin, and upper lip, then the scruff along his cheeks. It was smooth then rough as she examined the contours of his face, but all warm . . . far different from the face she caressed in her dream.

It was cold as ice.

She sobbed again and shook her head, and he whispered soothing nonsensical words to her. Jamilah wrapped her arms around his head and clasped him to her, his head above her heart. His arms went around her waist and held her tight, his fingers caressing the bumpy vertebrae of her back. They didn't say anything; he let her cry and she let him hold her, taking comfort in the fact he was there and not . . .

"Death . . . there's gonna be so much death . . ."

He brought her closer, his lips brushing against the exposed skin from her nightgown. "Death? I'm no stranger to death," he teased.

She thumped his head, then caressed the small wound away. "Don't even joke about that, Sirius! I don't know what I'd do if you—"

She didn't finish the thought, instead kissed the top of his head lingeringly. He kissed the curve of her breast and she sighed.

"Come back to bed, love," he said softly, pulling back and looking into her eyes. They were full of concern and compassion, and Jamilah kissed his forehead. Sirius pulled her hands from his neck and kissed her knuckles. She squeezed his hands in response and moved to take a step back.

"Where are you going?" he asked, crawling further on the bed and bobbing up and down for his efforts.

"I have to talk to Albus," she said with a frown. "Severus can't go to the next Death Eater meeting . . . if he does, he won't be coming back . . ."

Though it was dim in the room, she saw him grow pale and shake his head. "No . . . no . . . you must be mistaken—"

"I saw it wit' my own eyes, Sirius. I saw Pettigrew hold that knife over his head before plungin' it down and—"

Another sob claimed her, and Sirius pulled her to him, reclining in the bed and resting her atop him. Hot tears fell on his neck and he rubbed her back in long, comforting strokes. They both knew this remedy would only calm her temporarily, and considering the lack of sleep she'd been getting these past few weeks, neither could just write this dream off as a bad one.

"This is the clearest one you've had yet, love," Sirius whispered after a while. Jamilah nodded, tucking her feet under the bunched covers while playing with the tendrils of hair at the nape of his neck. Soon she felt the heavy spread upon her, and she felt cocooned and safe.

"Dumbledore called it, didn't he? That Crabbe boy is a sneaky lil' bastard!" She pulled back and stared into his eyes, her own wide with fear. "What if they know about you, now? I mean, how did he know your nickname for Severus? He's probably known you were there all this time! Or maybe not, maybe he looked into a Pensieve . . ."

Sirius lifted his head and kissed her words silent, a soft peck which caused her to whimper. "Go to sleep, Jam. We'll tell him in the morning."

She shook her head and scrambled out of bed, grabbing her housecoat before pulling on a tassel rope hanging from the ceiling. The wall rumbled as a portrait of unicorns rose and the stones behind it tumbled in configuration to reveal a set of stairs. Sirius sighed and collapsed on the bed.

"He's probably sleeping, love," Sirius said wearily.

Jamilah sucked her teeth. "Well I guess Imma hafta wake him up, ain't I?"

He was about to speak again but she started up the stairs, her steps efficient so that she reached Dumbledore's door quickly. She'd barely lifted her hand to rap it when it opened, revealing a tired, yet awake Dumbledore.

"Jamilah, dear, I was expecting you . . ."

Jamilah huffed and brushed passed him; she hated it when he did that. Fawkes was preening atop his cage and the portraits dozed; yet to Jamilah's ears the snores seemed affected rather than genuine. Dumbledore went to his desk, straightening parchments and quills in a show of neatness. Jamilah placed her hands on her hips and tilted her head to the door.

"Ain't you gonna close it?"

Dumbledore looked at her above his glasses, his eyes sparkling. "Sirius should be here soon, it would be rude to close the door on him.

Jamilah pursed her lips together and Summoned a chair so she could sit. Her eyes closed and she tried to recall her dream, wanting to make sure everything she'd say would be accurate with what she saw as she slept. She heard the heavy footsteps echo in the stairwell and soon Sirius was there as well. The door clicked shut and Sirius took a seat beside her, grabbing her hand from her lap to place it on his armrest. Jamilah didn't look at him through this, her mind focused on her memory . . .

_The moon was half shrouded by thin clouds in a dark, starless sky, providing an ominous backdrop for the meeting. The field where they were was large, open, and full of brown, dying grass—weeds more like it. Men stood in a circle, masked with chilling, blank gray faces, and black robes covered them completely. There were three bodies in the circle—one of the robed men, a green, snake-like creature, and a short, bent-over man whose puny stature belied the venomous strength he held. The man in the black robes was on his knees, mask-less, but his face was stoic and unafraid. The bent-over creature's hands were behind his back, and his eyes were maniacal. The snake-like creature's red eyes were angry, yet amused._

_"Well, well, well, looks like I found a snake in the grass . . ." Snake-like Creature hissed. The circle cackled on cue, and the man's cheek tensed in response. Bent-over Man's lip curled slightly, but nothing of his posture changed._

_"I don't do well with traitors, Severus. I thought we kept you at Hogwarts to spy on them for _us,_ not the other way around . . ."_

_Severus said nothing, merely looking ahead as if Snake-like Creature and Bent-over Man weren't there. Snake-like Creature began twirling his wand between his fingers before pointing it at Severus._

_"Crucio."_

_His body spasmed, convulsed, and trembled; yet he didn't utter a sound. Blood trickled from his nose, and his eyes rolled into his sockets—the only signs he was in extreme pain. The circle was quiet throughout the entire ordeal—immovable as statues. Bent-Over Man's lip curled even more, and an eerie red glint formed in his eyes._

_The curse stopped, yet Severus continued to twitch as he rested on his side. His feet and hands, it turned out, were bound with leather and they cut into his flesh, red stain marks streaming from his wrists. Bent-over Man stepped closer to the man._

_"I hope you know, all you've done, has been for naught. If it hadn't been for our loyal follower Young Crabbe, we would've never gotten the information you oh, so conveniently forgot to tell us—like her _name_ . . ."_

_Severus still didn't speak, and the red in Bent-over Man's eyes became darker. Yelling, he kicked Severus hard in the gut, but again the other man didn't emit a sound, merely wincing in reaction to the kick. Snake-like Creature glared at Bent-over Man, who stopped his leg from continuing the arc headed to Severus's groin. Bent-over Man cut his eyes at Snake-like Creature, yet put his foot down and backed away from the prone man. Severus managed to get back on his knees and look ahead as he once did, only to have Snake-like Creature nod to Bent-over Man, who finished his foot's initial trip to Severus's crotch. Severus's eyes bulged and his teeth clenched, but otherwise he was silent._

_"Why don't you scream out?" Snake-like Creature asked, and though the voice was calm, there was underlying frustration and anger also. Severus heard this, and he allowed himself to smirk. Snake-like Creature nodded to Bent-Over Man and he backhanded Severus in the mouth with his silver hand. Severus's head snapped back with a sickening crack; blood and bigger white chunks fell out of his mouth onto his robes and in the grass. Both Snake-like Creature and Bent-Over Man chuckled, and the circle mimicked them. Severus still remained stoic and silent._

_"Of course, the _name_ didn't mean much," the Snake-like Creature continued. "It was what Young Crabbe said _afterwards_ that piqued my interest . . . favored of Snape, very powerful magic . . . secret training with Young Malfoy, Miss Weasley, and _Potter_ . . . it was all too intriguing to ignore . . ."_

_The clouds had since completely covered the moon to where the circle used wands to provide light. The blue glow cast shadows across Severus's face, making the blood streaks on his cheeks turn magenta. The temperature had dropped significantly, but no one made a move to draw his robes tighter across his body. Bent-Over Man crouched to Severus's level, a broad grin on his face._

_"Her _name_, then, is Nia—Nia Roberts. Her mother's name was Malika Roberts—the nigger bitch whom _you_ fucked before bringing her to _me, _for the Conception Ritual . . . methinks you'd been playing us for fools since then, haven't you?"_

_Severus dragged his black eyes to meet the blue of Bent-Over Man's, only to break contact and look over the field again. Bent-Over Man hissed and gripped Severus's chin with his silver hand, the metal tearing the flesh and bruising the skin. "You _ruined_ her!"_

_"I _saved_ her . . . and made her stronger in the process."_

_"You _lied _to us—that moment in Lucius's study when we _asked_ you about the conception! You said it didn't take!"_

_Severus grinned and met the other's eyes. "It _didn't_ take; she didn't become the spawn of evil like you wanted her to be."_

_It was frighteningly still before Bent-Over man moved his hand from Severus's chin to sock him in the throat. The Potions Master's eyes widened and watered as he began to choke, his body heaving with its desperate attempt for air._

_"You insolent fool! You've been around those bloody Gryffindors too much!"_

_Severus finally caught his breath and chuckled, the sound more a wheeze. "This coming from an _actual_ Gryffindor himself!"_

_Bent-over Man stood and kneed Severus in the nose, blood squirting in a crimson arc past Bent-over Man's thigh. Severus's head bent forward briefly before he faced ahead again, the blood running along his lips and chin down his throat._

_"Imagine all of the re-teaching we'll have to give her when she joins our ranks . . . I'm sure Young Crabbe, and others, will be most happy to 'tutor' her . . ."_

_The circle snickered, and Severus's jaw clenched. Bent-Over Man scowled at the circle and glared at Snake-like Creature. "The only one who'll be doing any 'tutoring' is _I!_ She's _mine,_ Voldie—don't even forget that!"_

_Snake-like man merely waved the declaration away, claiming it as no consequence. "Regardless, she will be with us, and kill the very boy she tried to save when she made the deal with us . . . that young voice finally has a name," Snake-like Creature muttered._

_"Nia Roberts . . . she's the spitting image of my Isis . . . I cannot wait to claim her . . ."_

_"You touch her and I will kill you," Severus said lowly, but its meaning echoed throughout the plain._

_Bent-over Man raised an eyebrow at the threat, then began to laugh. The circle did not join in, because there was something basically evil about it; a morbid, sinister sound that curled hairs and toes with dread. His flesh hand clutched Severus's throat, and his face became red from lack of oxygen. "I'd like to see you try . . . with no hands . . ."_

_Suddenly, Severus screamed, a bloodcurdling wail that vibrated through everyone else's vocal chords from its loudness and force. Behind the kneeling man was a pile of ashes—the remains of what used to be his hands._

_"And even if you could do wandless magic, I'd love to see you command it without being able to speak . . ."_

_Severus face contorted and he retched, large red chunks coming from his mouth onto the brown grass below. He screamed again, but his mouth was a black cavern of nothingness—his teeth, gums, and tongue no longer there—but then his lips were melded shut, so now his face only had eyes and a nose; there was no mouth._

_Bent-over Man stepped away from Severus and lifted a foot, showing a spiked blade from the toe of it. "This is just in case you ever have the inclination to 'save' someone again—" The foot disappeared between Severus's legs, and he slumped over, muffled screams coming from him and his shoulders wracking. Finally, Bent-over Man brought both hands before him to reveal a knife—the very knife used to resurrect Snake-like Creature three years prior._

_"And since you apparently have a soft spot for Mudblood filth now, here's a concept I'm sure you know: what's that expression used to vengeance?" Snake-like Creature asked, tapping his bony fingers in the area below his lower lip. "Ah yes! An eye for an eye . . . meaning: you stab our back, we'll stab yours!"_

_The moon was revealed, and its light danced across the blade held high above fallen body, right before plunging into his—  
  
_

" . . . Back, love . . . come back to us . . . you're safe, you're safe . . ."

She opened the eyes she didn't know where closed only to be greeted by darkness. She screamed and tried to push away, only to be met with resistance. Her fists pummeled something hard and unyielding before the bands at her back grasped her fists gently. The tenderness made all of her anxiousness flee and she pulled back slowly. Black eyes greeted hers and shaky hands caressed the cheeks below them.

"Oh Severus!" she cried, and buried her head in his chest. Those arms came around her again and she allowed herself to be held. Another hand caressed her back and squeezed her shoulders, and a kiss touched her temple. After some time she finally calmed, and was well enough to sit back in her chair, her hand linked through another's tightly. Severus stood behind her chair and he looked at the Headmaster with an expressionless façade.

"I've been Summoned."

The pronouncement dropped like an axe and she immediately tensed. Sirius squeezed her hand and she willed her body to relax. Dumbledore's eyes closed for the space of a second before he opened them and his hand, revealing a feather.

"This is a portkey. It will be activated the moment you are in life-threatening danger. Touch it; it only needs the barest of contact, and you will be sent to safety."

Jamilah was angry. After all she went through, all she saw him experience, Dumbledore was still going to send him to his death? "He _ain't_ goin'!"

The snarl caused three heads to snap in her direction. She glared at her grandfather in disgust. "Ain't he purged himself from his sins _yet?_ I won't have my granddaughter's father goin' to his death! I won't!"

Dumbledore looked to the ceiling and sighed. "It cannot be helped, Jamilah."

"The hell!"

Sirius snickered, and she shot him a scathing look. He shrunk in his seat and whimpered.

"I see she has you trained rather well," Severus said silkily.

"Bite me!" Sirius growled.

"I'll leave that to Jamilah, thank you."

Jamilah rolled her eyes, not believing they could quarrel at a time like this. Things were escalating into proportions where they would not be easily contained. Apparently, Crabbe told them most of the secrets—the main of which was Nia. Sending Severus to the Death Eater's meeting was like putting a snowball into the hottest recess of hell.

And the snowball had a better chance of surviving.

Apparently she'd said that out loud, for Severus crouched before her, taking her free hand and clasping it to his heart. His eyes were determined and bored into hers. Her body trembled from their intensity. "If my death protects Nia for even a second longer than my life would, I will forfeit it. She is the most precious thing in this world to me, and I'd gladly give anything up for her."

Jamilah felt her eyes water and she ducked her head until she regained control of her emotions. "You shouldn't have to do that. She's gonna need you with her."

Severus snorted and looked around the room. The portraits had since stopped their pretend sleep and looked upon them with fascination and interest. "These portraits watched me as I came to the Headmaster almost twenty years ago, begging for mercy for my action with the Death Eaters. He warned me it was not going to be an easy road, and Merlin knows it wasn't."

"But you traveled it well, my boy, very well," Dumbledore said softly.

Severus allowed a rare genuine grin to grace his face. "Along my journey came Nia, and I realized why I was saved—to protect her, my daughter, from the likes of Voldemort and Set . . . now there are other who can do the job for me: Mr. Malfoy, the younger, Mr. Potter, the younger—"

"The _same_ 'Mr. Potter, the younger,' you've forbidden her to see?" Sirius said with a bit of an edge.

"They can see each other once they've gotten The Talk. Have they had The Talk?" Jamilah and Sirius said nothing. "Then Mr. Potter will have to hold off on his methods of 'protection' at the moment, considering a Contraception Spell does little against _Avada Kedavra . . ._"

Jamilah stopped Sirius from saving Voldemort and Set the trouble of killing Severus, using her arm as a barrier to keep him in his seat. Sirius snarled but stayed put and Jamilah glared at the other man.

"Kind of hard to 'talk' when Nia won't," Jamilah said in her defense.

Severus sighed and rolled her eyes. "It doesn't require her to speak. You talk, she listens, and we won't experience another debacle as occurred two weeks ago with Mr. Crabbe—speaking of which, even Mr. Goyle, the younger, watches out for my daughter. And let's not forget Miss Weasley, who has blossomed into a formidable opponent in her own right; but more importantly, Nia is growing into a beautiful woman who may force Voldemort and Set to find protection from _her_!"

Any annoyance Jamilah felt against the Slytherin dissipated once they went back to the original conversation. Though he'd been on these missions before, sometimes very badly affected, he always came back. There was never a doubt he wouldn't survive a Death Eater meeting, but now that black cloud hung over them just waiting to burst. Her hand cupped Severus's cheek and he leaned into it. "But she needs _you_!"

Severus nodded. "She'll continue to have me. I remember what you told her the day we buried Malika, that she was looking down upon her from heaven. Well, wherever I'm going, I will be watching her, too. I won't leave her, just as Malika didn't."

Jamilah took a deep breath and looked beyond Severus's shoulder to Fawkes's cage. The phoenix's eyes locked with hers, black eyes so much like Severus's it was uncanny.

A man who rose from the ashes.

Jamilah smiled then, placing a chaste, motherly kiss on Severus's lips. "You'll be fine, boy. You gonna come back." She hugged him tight, and sighed when he returned the embrace. They all stood, and Sirius, in a rare show of compassion, offered Severus his hand. The Slytherin looked at it skeptically before shaking it firmly and briefly.

"Go kick some Death Eater arse," Sirius commanded.

"I fear I don't have the requisite amount of legs for that feat, but I shall do my best." They smirked at each other before Severus turned to the Headmaster. Dumbledore was sad, yet calm as he clasped his hands on either side of Severus's face. Severus grasped the older man's wrists and offered a wan smile.

"My dear boy . . ." Dumbledore began, the typical hoarseness even quieter. "My Son . . ."

Jamilah should've been surprised by the tear that fell out of each man's eye, but she wasn't. Neither made a move to wipe it away, letting it run its course to the Oriental carpet below.

Severus began to nod and Dumbledore patted his cheek. "Headmas—Albus . . . Albus . . . thank you."

Dumbledore shook his head and smiles softly. "Thank _you_."

Severus squeezed Dumbledore's wrists as the other man patted his cheeks one last time. The young Slytherin Head of House looked around the office with an air of nostalgia. The portraits had looks for pride on their faces and Severus bowed his head. Soon, he straightened his back and schooled his features to an expressionless glass as he stalked out of the room to meet his fate.

Sirius helped to ease her trembling body to her seat and she gripped the armrests tightly. Her lids slid over her eyes and she breathed deeply and swallowed thickly. She desperately needed some water.

"What do I tell my grandchild when she wakes up tomorrow? How do I tell her her father may not be coming back from this Summons?"

Dumbledore sank gingerly into his seat behind his desk, and Fawkes began to sing. Jamilah felt light and easy at the song and Dumbledore smiled.

"Severus can hear Fawkes's tune still, for it echoes down the stairwell."

"Is that a good thing?" Sirius asked.

Dumbledore's smile widened. "A very good thing; can't you hear him whistle?

"Whistle? He can whistle?"

Dumbledore grinned. "Who do you think taught him? 'Just whistle a happy tune' I say . . . I've always loved _The King and I . . ._"

Jamilah laughed then, a joyous sound that bounced all over the walls. Between Fawkes's song, Severus's whistling, and Dumbledore's randomness, her fear and dread began to lessen. There was hope; not all dreams became realities. There may be nothing to tell Nia when she woke up in the morning. Nothing but 'Daddy's home."  
  
ssssssssssssssssss 

Light murmuring provided background music in the Great Hall, full of students studying and doing homework for their upcoming classes. Candlelight licked the golden walls of the Hall and the enchanted ceiling showed a clear, starry night. Sometimes a book would slam onto a tabletop from the weight of its heavy pages, or a round of giggles bubbled forth, but the quietness of the space almost rivaled Madame Pince's beloved library.

The snap of a point breaking shook her out of her trance, but the sound she heard next completely drew her attention from her work.

"Fucking quill . . ."

Ginny's ear twitch at the foul language coming from her left. She watched Harry throw the useless quill away from him and ruffle through his bag for another. Her eyes darted to the others around her, and they all seemed concerned by Harry's surly disposition. This was bordering on his fifth-year angst all over again, and he was barely bearable then.

Ron sent her a pointed look, glancing at his best friend briefly. "What crawled up his arse and died?"

"Ron!"

He merely rolled his eyes at his fiancée, and arched an eyebrow as he waited for Ginny's answer. "Well? I really don't fancy a repeat of fifth year . . ."

Ginny used her finger as a bookmark while her other hand pinched the bridge of her nose. Quite frankly, neither did she; but it wasn't her place to tell them what was wrong—even if she _did_ know—and she told Ron as much. Her brother didn't really want to hear that answer and scowled at her.

"Fat lot o' good you do, then," he snapped.

"_Don't_ take Harry's bad mood out on me, prat! You want to know what's wrong, ask him yourself! He's more bloody likely to open up to you than me anyway!" Harry, the subject of the mini-argument, seemed not to have registered he was the topic of discussion. Ginny cursed him for his obliqueness.

Ron's eyes narrowed. "Right! I'm not a god in this outfit! It may have something to do with that? Ever consider it?"

Ginny frowned slightly yet shook her head. If it was god related, she'd probably be feeling some effects as well . . . then again her bond with Harry wasn't nearly as strong as hers with Draco or even Nia for that matter.

"I think his issues have more to do with 'earthly' matters," she said with a shrug as she began to take notes again. The quill's scratching proved to be therapeutic, and her irritation lessened. "In any case, that gives you no call to get snappy with me!"

Blue eyes flashed briefly before becoming muted, and Ron sighed. "I just . . . worry about him, that's all. We are entering the final days of school, Ginny; nothing would be worse if Harry has to remain for another year because he didn't pass his N.E.W.T.s!"

Ginny raised an eyebrow at that. Hermione's _really_ done a number on her brother, and she grinned. "Never knew you cared about grades so much, Ronald!"

He scowled at her again as Hermione kissed his cheek. "If he wants to be a top-notch Auror, he has to make the marks of one; isn't that right, love?"

Ron didn't answer save a roll of his eyes, but he brought Hermione's hand to his lips. Ginny felt a slight twinge of jealousy; they were able to express their love all the time . . . she and Draco; not so much. As it was, it had been a few weeks since she and he were able to meet outside of patrolling rounds—for some reason they were no longer training partners. She ached for her Dragon.

"What's wrong with staying an extra year, then? Ginny'll be here . . . ."

The redhead witch looked at him as he stared at the relatively empty Slytherin table.

_So will Nia . . ._

Her eyebrows rose in understanding. Whatever put Harry in this funk had something to do with Nia. Ginny frowned; Nia hadn't said anything about problems between the two; but to be fair, her conversations with the young Slytherin were rushed and clipped at best.

Hermione noticed the direction of Harry's eyes. "You have to move on with your life, Harry. She'll be here in three years. You have to be the Auror you've always dreamed of, and you have to let her figure out what she wants to do."

Harry's eyes dropped and he was dangerously close to snapping another quill. Ginny eased it from his hand as it fell palm flat on the table.

"Fucking Malfoy . . . ."

Ginny arched an eyebrow. "Don't tell me _that's_ why he's been unable to meet with me—because you're 'fucking Malfoy!'"

Harry jerked as if he'd been slapped and blanched. Ginny sniggered and looked at Ron, who as an ugly shade of green. Hermione's lips were in a fine line and a crease appeared between her brows.

"Don't tell me _you've _been fu—_ouch!_ Bloody hell, Hermione!" Ron gritted out as he rubbed his side where Hermione elbowed him.

"That's none of your business, Ron Weasley!"

"Like hell it isn't!"

"Well then, I guess you wouldn't be adverse to it if Ginny asked a similar question to us, hmm?"

Ron scoffed at that. "She's just the baby! Why would she care? Besides, we're _engaged!_"

Ginny was fast approaching a headache, and she really didn't fancy going over all the technicalities as to why _her_ love life was eligible for public perusal but her brother's wasn't. She ignored the two squabbling and tried to focus on her own studies. The text began to blur together into one large black blob and she sighed. Clearly she wasn't in any mood to study. Ginny glanced at Harry and saw him staring intently at his own piece of parchment, though the quill had yet to move.

Ginny sighed again and stared at the enchanted ceiling. A star shot across her field of vision and she smiled, vaguely remembering something Nia said about shooting stars . . . that making a wish on them would make it come true. Ginny wondered if it would work if the star were in a magical ceiling . . .

Suddenly the doors slammed open and everyone's attention went to it. In marched a rather peeved girl, who looked wildly around the room until her eyes settled on the Gryffindor table. They narrowed, but then she smirked, and all but sauntered to where Ginny and her friends sat. The redhead witch didn't know whether to be concerned or amused, so she merely raised her eyebrows in surprise.

"I need to talk to you," she said speaking to Ginny, but looking at Harry the entire time. Before Ginny could answer the other girl sat between her and Harry, her back slightly turned to the boy, but not enough to completely shut him from the conversation.

"Nia? What's wro—?"

"Imma 'bout to flippin' _kill_ your boyfriend, Ginny, that's what's wrong! He's being the biggest punk _e-ver,_ and if he don't stop, Imma finish Set's job for him!" Ginny glanced at Harry, whose face was set in a frown. Nia looked at him briefly, and Ginny noticed the younger girl's hand pat Harry's knee soothingly. Harry clutched the hand, and didn't let go of it as he went back to his work. He was much less tense now that Nia was there.

"Hey . . . while I don't like the wanker, either, isn't killing a bit too extreme?" Ron was met with four incredulous looks and the redhead snickered. "I tried . . ."

Ginny merely rolled her eyes.

"No matter how insincere that was, Ron does have a point, Nia. What's he done?" Hermione asked. Nia groaned and rested her head in her propped-up hand and told them in hushed tones how Draco had "forbidden" Nia from seeing Harry (speaking vaguely, of course) until after the Leaving Feast since Harry didn't know how to 'keep it in his pants' and people were obviously picking up on something between them. The kicker was, however, Draco convinced Snape and Jamilah that was a good idea, so now Ginny had Harry as a partner instead of Draco, and while Draco was not pleased by _that_ development, he knew he could pretty much see Ginny whenever he wanted.

Ginny set down her quill and crossed her arms over her chest. "Oh _really_ now; he said that, did he?"

"Bloody prat—I can't believe he'd _do_ this to me? Does he forget I'm like, three years behind y'all? It's _so_ unfair!"

Nia's ire gave way to sadness, and her voice wavered at the end. Ginny felt Harry's need to comfort the girl, but he couldn't and risk exposing Nia to the eyes and ears that no doubt exist at Hogwarts. After the Crabbe debacle and almost being exposed, they'd taken great pains to be more cautious with behavior. And while Ginny appreciated Draco's measure to keeping Nia safe, it was a bit extreme. There are ways to meet without being seen.

No one said anything, but there was a heavy air about the group. Ron and Hermione shot the couple sympathetic looks, not willing to say more to draw a response from either. Nia had her eyes closed, but her other hand was still being held by Harry. Harry's face had a frown, but Ginny figured it was less in anger and more in contemplation. He'd figure a way around this; he wasn't almost Sorted into Slytherin for nothing!

A quill scratching the parchment provided some sound to there immediate space, and Ginny watched Harry scribble furiously, highly attentive on the document than perhaps necessary. Nia's body was tense, and an almost pleading look was on her face as she stared at a far corner in the Hall. Ginny figured they were using the link to talk.

Harry was not letting her leave. A sudden wave of sympathy and tenderness washed over Ginny, and she realized just how nice she had it. Though she and Draco couldn't be together as often as she'd like, they could at least be open about it. It was killing Nia and Harry to keep it a secret, and the one time they decided to let loose, it almost cost important secrets and knowledge. If for no other reason Set and Voldemort needed to fall was to let Harry and Nia be in the relationship they want.

Ginny caught the doors opening again out the corner of her eye, and her blonde-haired god walked in with his perennial sneer. It deepened when he looked at their table and he approached it, standing behind Ron and Hermione as he glared at Nia and Harry. "This is not the Slytherin table."

"Last time I checked, I could sit wherever I dang wanted to!" Nia said lowly.

Draco sighed and looked at the ceiling. "Nia, do not try my patience today. Come and sit with me."

She raised an eyebrow. "Or why don't _you_ sit here with _me?_ I'm already comfortable, thank you."

Draco glanced at Ginny before moving to Harry. His jaw was set and his eyes were narrowed, and Ginny knew they were linked. Tense moments passed and Nia's eyes darted between the both of them. Suddenly Harry stood, the bench knocking over and making Ginny and Nia stumble to standing positions.

"What are they doing?" Ron asked, a look of alarm on his face. Nia climbed over the table and walked Draco to Slytherin's, his eyes never leaving Harry's.

"What was _that_ all about?" Ron tried again, a small frown on his face. Ginny was highly annoyed, but what could she do? Harry was glaring at the Slytherin table where Nia and Draco were in a hushed, yet animated discussion. Ginny could see Nia's eyes flash and hoped the younger girl kept her temper in check. Draco was walking on thin ice.

"I hope she bloody blasts him into oblivion," Harry muttered darkly. Ginny sucked her teeth but did not respond. Nobody should blast _anything_, in her opinion, but if it must be done, it should be done in the privacy of training.

Just then Nia stomped out of the Hall, and Draco's bravado drained away as he slumped on the table, a hand going through his mussed hair.

_What the hell?_

A few moments later Harry stalked out of the Hall as well, yet Draco made no move to stop him. The murmuring faded to the background as Ginny focused her mind on the link.

—_Draco, what exactly is going on, here?_—

The blonde didn't move from his current position, and Ginny all but went to his side.

—_I'm fucking afraid, okay?_—

Ginny jerked back at the expletive, almost tearing her parchment in the process, her quill's feather swayed loosely against her hand, her fingers far too relaxed to hold it properly.

—_What's happened?_—

She felt him sigh, and it made her uneasy. A foot tapped her shin and she looked at Hermione. The brunette's eyes were filled with concern, and Ginny shook her head. There was nothing she could say, because she didn't know. The not knowing was driving her nutters.

Draco still hadn't answered, and just as she was going to link with him again, he got up and left, his steps measured and heavy.

Ginny gritted her teeth and threw her head back. The sky was darker than before, and it became eerily still. Suddenly the stars' formation began to shift until there was a message formed across it.

_Death._

Ginny gasped and leapt from the table, ignoring Ron and Hermione's calls, and rushed into the main corridor to the dungeons.

"Draco!" she yelled, her voice echoing off the gray stones. Suddenly a hand grasped her upper arms and pulled her to the wall. A scream lodged in her throat when she realized who held her.

"Harry!" she whispered harshly. She smacked him hard in the shoulder; half angry with him scaring her as he did, and half in relief it _was_ only he.

"Something's happened."

"What's happened?"

Ron and Hermione approached them, slightly winded from chasing Ginny.

"What are you two doing here?"

"You can't just gasp and leave like that without telling us why?" Ron said with a small scowl.

"Something's going on and we want to know what," Hermione added.

Harry sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "Well . . . it's complicated . . ."

Ginny narrowed her eyes at him and shifted them to the stones next to his head. They were actually jagged and not as smooth as their appearance suggested from a distance. Ginny felt herself in a similar situation; these declarations of "something" far worse than the tone used to utter them.

"Well, are you bloody going to tell us what?"

He didn't reply, instead enveloping her in his arms and squeezing her. Ginny was becoming very scared and she didn't like the feeling. She returned Harry's hug and buried her face in his neck. From the message in the stars to Harry's cryptic pronouncement added on by the fact Draco and Nia were acting very strange, Ginny's nerves were on edge. What could possibly be wro—?

"Snape left last night for a Death Eater meeting . . . no one's heard from him since . . ."

Ginny froze, barely registering the gasp Hermione let out, then trembled violently. _No no no no no no no!_ No! There was no way that message meant Professor Snape! No way! Nia would be _devastated!_ But then again, it explained Draco's behavior in the Hall . . .

"Well, maybe the meeting went long . . ." Ginny whispered, her grip on Harry tightening. He was warm and alive and felt good in her arms, a sign of life amid the Death trying to creep into her space. First Sirius, then Draco, and now possibly Professor Snape. Ginny didn't think they could push their luck and make it three for three.

"I overheard Sirius and Jamilah talking about it this morning when I went to training early . . . Jamilah was very upset, kept mentioning something about a dream—have you had dreams recently?"

She hadn't, and she thought that meant things were okay; apparently that thought was wrong and now Professor Snape could be dea—

She wasn't going to think like that, and she shook her head to stop idea from taking strong root in her mind. Ginny separated from Harry and bit on her thumbnail. The candlelight created a shadow diagonally across his face, so only his right eye to his mouth were visible. He lifted a foot to the wall and crossed his arms, watching her watch him.

"It's a serious possibility—"

"No."

He sighed and looked at the ceiling. "Ginny . . ."

"How can you be so blasted calm about this? I know you don't like him, but for Merlin's sake, he's Nia's father! This would just _devastate her!_"

"Harry has a point, Gin. He's only one bloke among many—two of which are Dark Lords and ancient gods. Things don't look too well for Snape," Ron said sympathetically.

"Look, I don't want him to be dead any more than you do, but knowing how Voldemort and Set works, I'm not going to hold my breath he's alive. It's almost been twenty-four hours and no one's heard a word. That's cause for worry, Gin!"

A door down the hall slammed open and hurried footsteps came in their direction. It was a while before the person stepped out of the shadows, and when they saw it was Nia Ginny gasped again.

"Get back here, Nia!" an annoyed masculine voice bellowed.

"You can go flippin' hang yourself! I'm goin' to get my father!"

Harry's lackadaisical posture tensed and he pushed himself from the wall, standing in the path of a very angry Nia.

"Where do you think you're going, love?"

Nia glared at him, not in the mood. "I think you bloody well heard me yellin' down the dang hall, now _move it!_"

Harry shook his head and grasped her shoulders. "You're not going anywhere but the Slytherin Common Room or Jamilah's room. You're not leaving this castle."

Nia was so appalled she gaped. "The hell I ain't! Ain't _you_ the one who rushed to the Department of Mysteries when you thought Sirius was captured?"

Ginny really tried to keep the smirk off her face, but Harry's guilty look, aided with Draco's snort made that impossible.

"But Nia, that's completely different—"

Nia rounded on Hermione, eyebrows raised and arms crossed. "Oh _really_, then? Let's hear it."

Ginny loved Hermione like the sister she would soon become, but the poor dear really needed to learn when to keep her comments to herself. Hermione blushed and glanced at Harry for help, but he only shrugged. Ron rubbed Hermione's shoulders and frowned at the young spitfire.

"Sirius isn't a Death Eater, that's why! Snape knew what he was doing when he took the role as double agent!" Ron answered. Hermione closed her eyes and bit her lip at her fiancée's accusatory tone and Ginny shot him a warning look.

"If it weren't for his work, the lot of you wouldn't even _be _here right now!" Draco said lowly.

Ron stepped around Hermione and got in Draco's face. "And if it weren't for _your_ lot, we wouldn't be in this state of war in the first place!"

"Enough!" Ginny snarled and shoved her way between them, her back against Draco and her glare pinned on Ron. "Would you _stop it_ already?"

"Yes, especially since Nia's not here," Hermione sang nervously.

"Sneaky little bint!" Harry muttered and rushed to the main corridors.

"That's my girl," Draco whispered, dropping a kiss to Ginny's temple before following the black-haired boy. Ginny moved to follow but a hand stopped her.

"You're not going!" Ron said through gritted teeth. Ginny laughed at his audacity and Hermione rolled his eyes.

"Is there something in the testosterone that makes men so daft?" she asked Hermione as she tugged her hand out his grasp.

"Apparently," Hermione sniffed. "We'll go to the library and see if we can't find something that could give Snape and Nia a leg up."

Ron opened his mouth to retort but Hermione kissed him, walking him backwards to the stairs for the library. Ginny took a deep breath and opened her link with Nia. After five tries she finally got an answer.

—_Come to the Room._—

The stairs were already aligned for her ascent and she reached the Room quickly. Ginny opened the door slowly and saw Nia in a heated discussion with the gods.

"I _forbid it!_ You will _not_ go, do you understand?!"

Aset and Nephthys rolled their eyes at Apedemak's impassioned command. Asar snorted. "_That'll_ make her not go."

Nia had her arms crossed and she tapped her foot impatiently. "I didn't come for your _permission,_ I came for your advice, for help!"

"And I'm _advising_ you not to go! Think of poor Harry—"

"Poor Harry nuthin'! Apparently bossiness gets passed down through the years because he made the same charge. I ain't listen to him, so what makes you think Imma listen to you?"

The sound of the door shutting and sealing caused both girls to look at the now bare wall, which formerly held a door.

"No you didn't!" Nia gasped.

Apedemak smirked. "Yes I did. Now is not the time for you to meet Set and Voldemort. To do so would upset destiny and put the world's fate on a course which cannot be rectified—for the worse!"

Nia's bluster evaporated and her shoulders sagged. "But he's my _father!_"

This was Ginny's cue and she wrapped the younger girl in her arms. Nia buried her face in Ginny's neck and held her close, drawing from the comfort the redhead offered.

"Trust me when I say, love, everything happens for a reason, and things all work out in the end."

"I want my daddy!" Nia whined, not at all appeased by Asar's words. Ginny looked at Nephthys and pleaded silently. The goddess could only shrug and look upon Nia sympathetically. A couch materialized to their side and Ginny guided them to it. Nia was not crying, but she was sniffling an awful lot and held onto Ginny's waist tightly. Ginny pulled Nia away from her and pushed her toward her lap.

"Place your head here," she whispered, and Nia followed without protest. The Slytherin's hair was in two braided pigtails and Ginny's fingers ran over a plait in a comforting gesture, but for whose benefit she wasn't entirely sure. The pyramid continued to flash gold, scarlet, silver and green as it turned behind them and Ginny's eyes glanced the markings on the walls—pretty much the legend of Asar, Nephthys, Aset, and Apedemak.

It wasn't working—looking for something to distract her from the worry she felt for Snape and Nia . . . she remembered the fright she got her fourth year when her father was attacked; but at least she had a mother and six brothers as her support system. Sure Nia had Dumbledore and Jamilah, but both were way too involved with the Order and other matters to totally devote their time to support the girl resting in her lap. Snape was not a popular bloke by any stretch, and what Nia needed now was someone to lean on without judgment.

_Harry should be here, the prat._

Ginny heard the door reform and two bodies rushed through it. Nia became rigid in her lap; she knew Harry was here without even seeing him. Ginny gave the boys a warning look. "Upset her and you'll have to deal with me."

Harry frowned and was about to answer when suddenly the pyramid began to rumble and shake. The four of them ducked behind the couch, cautious yet anxious to see what was happening. The sides of the pyramid opened and a slab of alabaster was raised.

"Shit," Draco muttered, both by the sight on the table and his unsuccessful attempt to stop Nia from climbing over the back of the couch. She sprinted to the pyramid and ran up a side to the slab.

"NO!"

It was her scream that unfroze them, and they raced to her side. Nia was gripping something and sobbing when they approached, and Harry sucked in a hissing breath before dropping beside her, wrapping his arms around her and placing his chin atop her head. Draco stood very still, his hands in fists at his side and his mouth clamped shut. Ginny put her arms around his waist and her cheek at her chest.

On the slab was a body—broken, bruised, and bloodied with blackened, puffy eyes and spit lips. The robes were in tatters and ribbons and there were grass stains on the shins. A swollen, blistered hand clutched one frayed scarlet phoenix feather.

The body was Professor Snape.


	16. Sixteen

_Sixteen_

The common room was empty considering it was late at night, so they were surprised when the portrait door opened to reveal a soot-covered Harry shrugging off his cloak, shaking Floo Powder and ash from it. Hermione and Ron exchanged looks as Harry plopped down on the ground next to her. Ron scowled into the fire before going back to his Potions assignment.

"How was the _meeting_?" Ron drawled, glaring fiercely at his parchment, dangerously close to poking a hole through it with his quill.

Hermione frowned, pulling the writing tool from his hand before he caused himself extra work and inky fingers. Harry sighed, giving his friend a sympathetic glance. "You know I wish you were able to come too, mate, but your Mum didn't want you missing any more school than you have to . . ."

It had been three weeks since Snape's run-in with the Death Eaters, and the students were in a somber haze, getting used to the changes imposed upon the school. Dumbledore explained to the student body Snape had fallen very ill all of a sudden, and would not be back for the remainder of the school year. Few people knew this "illness" was the result of an attack, and unless Snape regained consciousness, he wouldn't return at all. As it was, Pomfrey, after much convincing from Dumbledore, left her familiar post in the Hospital Wing to take up for Snape, considering she was almost as knowledgeable in Potions as he was, and was already familiar with the curriculum. _Pomfrey's_ replacement was Molly Weasley, something Ron and Ginny resented slightly, but Mrs. Weasley was the best Healer around not in St. Mungo's. Besides, she was in the Order and it was far more dangerous to let unknowns inside the school, for one never knew their real loyalties. . .

Number 12 Grimmauld Place was floo-connected from Molly's room, but she would only let Harry and Ginny go to the meetings, much to Ron's chagrin.

"She lets _Ginny_ go! I guess since I'm not a God reincarnate I'm not that important . . ."

Harry rolled his eyes at the fire, reclining on his elbows and crossing his feet at his ankles. "Believe me, mate. If I didn't have to go I wouldn't. There's nothing more I'd wish for than to be a normal teenager. Besides, I don't really sit in on the meetings anyway."

Hermione frowned at her Ancient Runes text as she flipped a page. "Really? What do you do, then?"

Harry took a breath. "I'm with Nia, watching Snape . . . y'know, I never liked the man, but even I wouldn't wish that on him."

Ron tensed and sighed, thumbing the edge of his parchment. "Yeah. I even miss him breathing down our necks. It's not a Potions class without Snape there to terrorize us to death."

Hermione glanced at Ron for a moment with a wistful smile. "Never thought I'd hear you say you missed him."

He shrugged and gave her a lopsided grin. "I didn't either. Funny how war makes you change opinions of people."

Harry's face suddenly darkened. "Or reaffirms them. I cannot wait to run my wand through Voldemort's and Pettigrew's black hearts . . . if they even have any . . ."

Hermione sighed, closing the text and crossing her legs at her ankles. "I've been thinking, about this war thing. Maybe you should restart Dumbledore's Army. I think it would do us all well. I know Professor Roberts has been very informative and pragmatic with her Defense techniques, and considering things are becoming far more dire than they were before, it would be good to tutor as many students as possible."

Harry gave her a sideways glance. "And while I agree, the reason I haven't been able to was because of training. Then again, I know Nia's not in any kind of mood to train, and Malfoy's just as broken up about it . . . perhaps training the student body would be good. Though, admittedly we only have about two more months of term, and we also have N.E.W.T.s."

Hermione sucked her teeth and shook her head roughly. "Hang N.E.W.T.s! What good will they be if no one's alive to enjoy them?"

Ron snorted and she glared at him. Harry snickered. "That is a valid point, though I will go out on a limb and say you would be the only one who'd enjoy the N.E.W.T.s . . . and maybe Percy . . ."

Ron's face darkened considerably and Hermione grasped his hand to calm him. "I don't want to hear that git's name," Ron bit out.

Harry turned so he faced Ron fully. "There's something you need to know about your brother, Ron . . ."

Ron shook his head and threw his books and parchment to the floor before standing. "Whatever you have to say, Harry, I don't want to hear it, so you might as well keep your mouth shut."

Hermione was anxious, both for Harry and Ron. "I don't like your tone, Harry."

Harry stood as well, not intimidated by his friend. "Ron, Percy's a Death Eater and-"

Ron's fist caught Harry's jaw, causing the black-haired boy's head to snap back from the blow. Hermione screamed and Harry cupped his jaw, looking at the redhead dazedly. Ron's expression was fierce as he glared at the bespectacled boy, shaking his reddening hand to relieve the pain shooting from the knuckles.

"I can't believe you just did that!" Hermione screeched, taking the hand and performing a Healing Spell on it.

"And I can't believe my best friend would say something like that to me," Ron said lowly, snatching his fist out of Hermione's hand and stomping up the stairs. Harry didn't follow, cursing and kicking over a chair before plopping on the couch and throwing an arm over his eyes. Hermione was on the verge of tears, torn between comforting her fiancée and her best friend. She chose Harry, whose jaw needed attention and owed explanations. Harry resisted her ministrations until finally Hermione spelled his hands away to grant her access to his injury.

Neither spoke as she tended to him, Harry wincing at particular charms until finally he was healed and his skin unmarred. Hermione dropped her wand in her lap and sat Indian style to Harry's profile. The fire danced in the reflection of his glasses and he scowled into it, his fingers gripping the arm of the couch until Hermione was afraid he'd pull the stuffing out.

"Harry-"

"He doesn't understand, Hermione . . ."

Hermione took the hand resting on his thigh and held it in her own. "Yes he does, Harry."

His jaw clenched and so did the hand around hers. She rested her head on his shoulder and stared into the fire with him. There was a stretch of time when no one said a word. Harry's knee began to bounce and the couch began to squeak softly from his movements.

"He's taking Snape's place."

Hermione's eyes widened and she temporarily forgot to breathe. "No . . ."

"Yes. Not even Mr. and Mrs. Weasley know, and I doubt I should've told Ron . . . but that's the reason Percy's been alienated from the family. He was in training to be a mole along with Snape."

She sputtered, sitting up straight and shaking her head. "Well how do you know? Who told you?"

Harry sighed and pushed his glasses on his forehead as he rubbed his eyes. "Dumbledore told Ginny; he figured _someone_ in the family should know, and Ginny was less likely to go into a rampage . . ."

"And she's the most objective," Hermione murmured.

"And she'd be the one who could do something about it," Harry muttered, running a hand through his dark locks. "Ron should be glad he doesn't have to go to the meetings. They're not nearly as glamorous as one would think."

Hermione snorted a replaced her head on his shoulder. "He just wants to be there for you, Harry; we both do. You shouldn't have to go through it alone."

He shook his head. "But I'm not. There are three other people right in the thick of it with me. None of us deserve this pain."

"Even Malfoy?"

He shrugged then nodded. "Even Malfoy. It must be hard to realize an entire life's worth of guidance and truths all turned out to be lies, and to reconcile the fact your father isn't who you thought he would be. I had a taste of if fifth year-it is not pretty."

Hermione chuckled slightly. "Never thought you'd have something decent to say about him."

"We've come to an . . . _understanding_ so to speak," he admitted. "We'd make much better progress being civil to one another than not. We have enough lunatics not liking us as it is."

She squeezed his hand and looked at him. "Well I'm proud of you, Harry Potter. It takes a true, noble man to set aside his differences for the good of the world."

He snorted and rolled his eyes. "Well I am The Boy Who Lived . . ."

She chuckled, lifting her feet to the couch and rested fully against him. Harry wrapped an arm around her shoulders and rested his cheek atop her head. It felt good to sit like that with him, having a small moment to themselves when there wasn't talk of Dark Lords of N.E.W.T.s. She always felt comfortable around Harry; his quiet demeanor helped her focus and calm herself, and she'd like to think she did the same for him.

"How do you like teal as a wedding color?" He began to cough violently and she giggled. "Teal's out, then."

"Oh Hermione, teal was never _in_!"

She giggled harder, smothering them a bit as the portrait door opened. Ginny looked decidedly guilty to Hermione, biting her lip and smiling shyly at them. Both Hermione and Harry gave her appraising looks.

"What did you do?"

Ginny's mouth dropped open at their simultaneous inquisition and they smiled at each other. "Don't ever do that again."

Hermione rolled her eyes and smirked. "Oh come off it! You walk in here like the cat who ate the canary . . . what did you do?"

Ginny merely grinned and winked at them. "Goodnight!"

Hermione grabbed Ginny's wrist and forced her back on the couch. "You can't say that and expect me to let you get away with it. Talk.''

Ginny frowned at her robes, worrying a loose thread at the zipper. "I can't tell you . . . but I think it'll turn things around for Harry-for all of us, really. Nia and Draco've been working really hard on it since, uh, the 'accident' . . ."

Harry's countenance darkened and he sat up straighter. "What do you mean?"

Ginny shifted and shrugged, clearing her throat. "Uh, like I said-can't tell you. But if it makes you feel better, Jamilah has assured me the chances of them failing are minimal-"

"_Failing_?!"

Harry stood then, his eyes hard and fierce. Hermione tried to pull him back down but he was too strong for her. The crackle of magical energy pricked her skin, and Hermione looked at Ginny to diffuse the situation. It was then Hermione realized the "happy" look Ginny sported earlier was just that-a look. At the moment she looked very concerned.

"I asked her, over and over again, that they'd come back from it-"

_Come back?_

Harry looked fit to burst, and Hermione held his hand. "What are they _doing_?"

Ginny shrugged. "I'm not entirely certain, but they keep saying it has to be done-"

"What in the world has to be done that would only require them, and not let _us_ know? I mean for Merlin's sake Voldemort and Set already know Draco's defected, and apparently they don't even know Nia exists! _Why_ are they-"

"Revenge."

Ginny and Harry looked at Hermione, snapped out of their verbal speculation. "And honestly, I think this has more to do with Nia than the both of them."

Harry looked around the room helplessly before plopping back on the couch, his free hand going to his hair again. "She can't save the world by herself!"

"So says the man who _always_ wants to face Voldemort _alone_," Ginny muttered.

Hermione bit her lip to keep from smiling. Harry was not amused. "But that's my job-that's why I'm here."

"And why is Nia here, hmm? You'd think after thousands of years she'd have some sort of say of how she's was to rid the world of Set! It's quickly become a personal thing for her," Ginny said.

"She shouldn't have to do it alone-"

"Well she's _not_."

Ginny's tone created a sense of panic in Hermione's breast. It was clear the young redhead was concerned for her boyfriend, yet Harry didn't seem to pick up on her distress.

"He's a fool! He's already died once-"

"I _know_, Harry! I _know_! I saw! I carried him to headquarters, remember?! Don't you think I'm _terrified_ he may die again? And if Nia's with him, there'll be no hope of resurrection again. They could _both_ die, and then where would that leave the wizarding world? Where would that leave me?"

Admittedly, Hermione was comforted by the admission. It meant that even with all of Ginny's extra powers, she still felt vulnerable . . . human . . . .

Harry went back to staring at the fire, his jaw clenched again. Hermione gave Ginny a smile she hoped passed as encouraging. "It'll all work out, you'll see."

Ginny shook her head and wiped at her cheeks. It was then Hermione realized she was crying. "But what if it doesn't? Huh? I see Snape lying there, unconscious and unresponsive, and I see Nia _trying_ to be strong, yet she's just going further and further into herself . . . I couldn't take it if something happened to Percy; any of my brothers for that matter-"

"Percy is not our brother."

Hermione sighed as she watched Ron come down the stairs, his face set hard and unyielding. Ginny's eyes flashed angrily and she stood toe to toe with her brother.

"How _dare_ you say that! If only you knew-"

"But I do know! Harry let it slip. Percy's a Death Eater! How the hell am I supposed to care about him now? He's betrayed us!"

Ginny's hands clenched at her sides and she took a few calming breaths. "Ron, I've known you for 16 years now. I'll just _bet_ you went off in a fit before Harry could explain everything to you."

Ron looked at his sister, then Harry incredulously and threw his hands out. "What's there to _explain_?! We all know what Death Eaters believe! He's a turncoat and a bloody brownnoser. And more importantly, he's not my brother-"

"He's a _spy_, Ron!" Ginny whispered fiercely, tears running down her face unchecked. "A bloody _spy_ for the Order! Do you know what that means? It means he's putting his life on the line just like Snape did in order to help US! He could end up like Snape, too. Is that what you want?"

Ron's face didn't twitch a muscle, and both siblings regarded each other seriously before Ginny whimpered and walked around him up the stairs. After a few moments Harry did the same, not speaking to either one of them as he left. Hermione was at a loss what to do. Ron looked prime to do something very rash, and she remained on the couch, yet fingered her wand just in case a sofa or an armchair became a victim to Ron's rage.

So she was surprised when instead of a curse she heard a sniffle, and her head snapped up to see him bite his lip and close his eyes, trying to calm himself. Her heart broke at the sight. Ron was the rock to them all, especially to her and Harry. To see him finally break down like he was disconcerted, yet humbled her.

Hermione said nothing, merely wrapping her arms around his waist and laying her head on his chest. He was trembling and she squeezed him tighter; after awhile, his arms came around her tightly and he dropped his cheek to the top of her head. She walked them back to the couch and eased them upon it. He shifted so his head rested on her shoulder, but arms remained firmly locked at her waist. They just sat there; Hermione let him cry and she dropped reassuring kisses on his face and temple. It was her turn to be the rock, and she hoped she was doing half as good of job as Ron did.

"I don't want him to die," he murmured against her neck. Hermione forced herself not to jump at the unexpected sound, having started to doze amid caressing his hair. She nodded against his head before kissing it.

"I know you don't, Ron. It's not an easy thing to reconcile, you know."

He nodded against her, and Hermione wiped a tear from his cheek. He grasped her hand and kissed the knuckles before putting it to his heart.

He looked into his eyes, his expression serious. "I love you."

She smiled and kissed his forehead. "I know. I love you, too."

"I want to marry you."

Her grin faltered. "We _are_ getting married, love."

He shook his head and sat up, grasping her hands tightly in his. "Now. I want to marry you _now_. Life's too short."

Hermione was speechless, and her mouth opened and closed with no sound to show for it. He grinned then, a sexy grin that almost made Hermione say yes and throw in a couple of kids as a bonus, so she closed her eyes and breathed deeply. He took advantage of that and kissed her hard, his tongue trailing along the seam of her lips and she parted them, granting him access. She stood on her knees on the cushions and wrapped her arms fully around his neck. His arms rested at her hips, drawing her closer to him.

"Marry me," he whispered, his mouth barely off hers.

She smiled and ran her hands through his hair, her mouth moving along his cheek to her ear. "Your mum would kill us."

His hands grasped her face and pulled her away so he could meet her eyes. They were serious and her breath caught. "At least I'd die as your husband."

"Oh _Ron_ . . ."

He was still serious looking and his thumbs caressed her cheeks. "That will be the only acceptable way for me to go. I have to be your husband, and you must be my wife. Only then can I die a happy man."

Hermione shook her head, her own hands framing his face. "But you won't be dying for a long time, Ronald Weasley."

"You don't know that. Anything could happen, but I want it with the guarantee that I'm married to you."

He was completely serious, and the thought excited and shocked her simultaneously. "Your Mum will kill us."

He grinned again and kissed her slowly, nibbling at her bottom lip tenderly. "And like I said, at least we'll be married when she does."

"But-"

He placed one long, lean index finger on her lips, stilling her words. "We can have a ceremony with them later. Right now I want to marry you, without all the fanfare and my Mum driving me nutters about it . . . I just want to be your husband. I want to bind myself to you forever. Please, Hermione."

She blinked. When she was a little girl planning her wedding, it certainly didn't look like this, but Ron was right-life was too short and there were no guarantees. And if she were honest with herself, she'd prefer a small, intimate wedding to a grand one. It was about her and Ron, not their families . . . .

And when Molly did kill them, at least she'd be Mrs. Hermione Jane Granger-Weasley.

She smiled and nodded. "Let's get married."

His eyes widened and his jaw dropped in shock. "You mean it?" She nodded again, her smile growing bigger. His nearly split his face and he kissed her hard, Hermione laughing from his excitement.

"Well! Well, we-we gotta get Ginny and Harry and-"

He stood from the couch slowly, a sheepish, shameful look on his face. "What's wrong, Ron? What is it?"

"I've been right awful to him, haven't I?"

She looked at him pointedly. "Downright wretched, actually."

Ron sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "I thought I'd gotten over my jealously thing . . . but you know, I just want to be needed . . ."

She stood, putting her arms around his waist. "I need you, will that do?"

He smiled and kissed her. "Very much so."

They pulled back and her eyes were shining. "So, meet you in the Room of Requirement in an hour?"

Ron bit his lip and grinned at her while she pushed the fringe from his eyes. "I don't think I can wait that long."

Hermione blushed at looked at her hands. "I have to be semi-beautiful on my wedding day and . . . that takes some time."

She felt his hand cup her cheek and his lips on her forehead. "And as I'm sure I've said countless times: you were born fully beautiful. You could come naked." Hermione snorted and slapped his hand away. "Well you could . . ."

Hermione rolled her eyes and began to go to her room. "I'll just _bet_ you'd like that."

She felt his arms come around her waist and his lips at her neck. "Mmm, call me selfish, but the only bloke I want to see you naked is me."

Hermione chuckled and gave him one last kiss before going to her room. She rifled through her trunk and closet, trying to find something half-way decent to wear. Suddenly there was a knock on her door and she jumped, then laughed at her anxiousness. She removed the wards from the door and shouted for the person to enter. Ginny bounded in the room, squealing and giving the brunette such a large hug they both fell on the bed in a heap.

"Oh I'm so happy for you two," Ginny whispered in Hermione's ear.

Hermione laughed and returned the hug. "How did you find out?"

"Harry told me."

"Right, then get off me. There's much work to be done in an hour . . . oh! Where are we going to do this? Can we ask Dumbledore-"

"He said to meet him in his office. We'll perform the ceremony there. He's even flooing in your parents, Mum and Dad, and our brothers."

Hermione's heart began to beat rapidly and tears pricked her eyes. A small, intimate wedding, with people they love the most. It was perfection. "I'm getting married."

Ginny grinned, scrambling off the bed and pulling Hermione up as well. "Yes you are. We only have a few more minutes before you become my sister-in-law!"

So Ginny helped her chose an outfit and did her makeup, even fashioned a crown of flowers Hermione transfigured from hair clips. The simple white sundress was perfect, and her makeup was understated, yet elegant. Her hair was out, yet wreathed with the flowers-white daisies-and Hermione smiled at her reflection.

"You're beautiful," Ginn whispered with a smile. Hermione felt her tears come, and she blinked rapidly, giving Ginny one last hug before going to the door.

"Wait!"

Hermione jumped in spite of herself. "What?!"

Ginny looked sheepish. "You can't go yet. Ron isn't up there. Wait a few more minutes."

Hermione rolled her eyes and shook her head, then snapped her fingers. "A bouquet!"

Ginny smirked. "All ready taken care of," Ginny said with a wink. She pulled something out of her pocket-no larger than a raisin, then muttered a spell. The item grew until she had a bouquet of white and red roses.

"Lovely," Hermione breathed, and gently took the bouquet from Ginny.

"Ready to get married?" Ginny asked, linking her arms through Hermione's.

She took a deep breath before nodding and smiling widely. "Definitely."

_zxzxzxzxzxzxz_

"You may now kiss your bride . . ."

Harry smiled as Dumbledore said those words, yet his smile was nothing compared to Ron's, whose grin overtook his face as he cupped Hermione's and gave her a chaste, yet long kiss.

The wedding was short and sweet, yet emotions ran high. Hermione didn't stop crying from the moment she saw Ron standing at the makeshift altar, and Ron didn't stop smiling since seeing Hermione at the door. Dumbledore performed wizard and Muggle matrimonial rites, and a band of magic wrapped around their hands as each recited their vows. Harry felt honored to be a part of such an event, and doubly honored for being Ron's best man. Ginny, being Hermione's maid of honor, kept blotting the tears from Hermione, all the while keeping her own tears at bay.

It was almost enough to make Harry forget about all the darkness looming in the world at the moment

As the newly married couple kissed, Mrs. Weasley was sniffling and holding onto Mr. Weasley who, while not crying, definitely had tears in his eyes. The twins even managed to be well-behaved as they watched their youngest brother get married, though Angelina and Alicia's presence probably had a lot to do with that. Mr. and Mrs. Granger merely smiled, tears falling on Mr. Granger's face as Mrs. Granger dabbed his cheeks lovingly. Harry saw Charlie wink at Tonks and squeeze her hand, and the witch blushed, while Bill clapped and whistled his congratulations. Harry locked eyes at Ginny who was standing behind the kissing couple and she gave a small smile.

Harry knew what that smile meant. No doubt the youngest witch was happy for her friend and her brother, but knowing Ginny, she was wondering if she would get the same opportunity.

If he were honest with himself, he was as well.

Things between him and Nia have all but gone stale and stagnant. When she wasn't in class or in training she was at Order Headquarters or in the dungeons. It had been three weeks without sharing a meaningful conversation with her, and he was growing annoyed and even fearful. He felt as if he were losing her, and he couldn't-not now.

_Not ever._

He was snapped out of his daze with a clap on his shoulder, a very serious looking Ron appearing in his line of vision. Harry smiled at him and returned the gesture.

"A married bloke now," Harry said on a small laugh.

Ron gave a lopsided grin and nodded. "Won't be long before I'll be standing for you at your wedding . . ."

Harry snorted and nodded his head. "Let's not get _too_ presumptuous . . ."

Ron nodded. "No. Let's. Gives us something to fight for, or else why bother?"

Harry looked to the floor, then snorted. "She's good for you, mate. She's made you wise."

Ron scoffed and shoved Harry's shoulder, and Harry returned the favor. Suddenly Ron pulled Harry into a hard hug and they just embraced for a while, saying things they wouldn't or couldn't utter verbally. Ron pulled back and cupped Harry's jaw, shaking his head a bit. Harry ruffled Ron's hair, earning a semi-amused, semi-disgruntled look for his efforts.

"Better attend to the missus," Harry said lightly. "Reckon she might get jealous . . ."

Ron shoved Harry again and smirked before returning to Hermione's side, dropping a kiss to her temple as he did so. She beamed at him, linking her fingers through his and almost completely ignored her mother as she continued to speak.

Harry was very happy for his friends, and remained on the fringe of everything so Ron and Hermione could have their night. In fact, he began to sneak out when a hand fell on his shoulder. He cursed the small jump he made, and couldn't help but sputter in surprise when he saw who stopped him.

"Angelina?!"

She smiled and nodded. "How are you doing, Harry?"

He nodded yet frowned. "I'm fine. You?"

She didn't answer, instead pulling him by the arm to a secluded section of the room. They sat facing each other and she stared at him intently. It took a lot for him not to fidget.

Finally Angelina sighed and gripped her chair's armrests. "I'm really worried about Nia."

Harry's posture slumped and he rubbed his eyes, pushing his glasses to his forehead. "Yeah . . . this whole thing with Snape's hit her pretty hard."

"I've tried owling her, yet she doesn't respond to any. Dad's getting really worried about her, particularly because she hasn't contacted us since the attack!"

Harry blinked a few times and sat up straighter. "Is that not normal?"

"I know, I know," Angelina sighed, shaking her head and relaxing her posture. "She and Dad aren't as close as they used to be, but he is still her father-"

"I thought Snape adopted her? Doesn't that make him her legal father?

Angelina huffed and rolled her eyes. "That's a technicality and you know it! Nia's Dad's child and he loves her regardless of whose 'legal' daughter she is! He wants to help, but he can't if she keeps pushing him away!"

"Well, tell him not to feel bad-she's pushing everyone away," he muttered. He didn't want to talk about his problems, not now while everyone else was so happy.

Angelina gazed at him appraisingly, and he met it blandly. "What?"

She broke into a soft smile and nodded. "You really like her, don't you?"

Harry sighed and put his face in his hands. "Why do you sound so surprised?"

"Never thought you would."

He sat up straighter. "What do you mean by that?"

Angelina held out hands and shook her head. "No, no! I don't mean her in particular. I mean any girl. You were always quiet and reserved, Harry. You seemed to avoid the opposite sex even when trying to get close."

He winced as Cho came to mind. "I'm a target for the Dark Lord. I didn't think it was fair to subject myself to someone. It brings unnecessary drama."

Angelina's eyes widened and she nodded. "I understand now."

Harry knew she wasn't referring to what he just said. "Understand?"

Angelina laughed, but it was mirthless. "She's pulling a Harry Potter."

Harry frowned. "What does _that_ mean?"

"Distancing herself from us. She's a target too, you know; probably a bigger one than you. And with Snape being attacked the way he was, she's removing herself from everyone-including us, her family. We're 'Mudbloods', after all . . ."

"And they don't know who you are in relation to her. They don't even know who Nia is," Harry said.

Angelina quirked an eyebrow. "Don't they? Why would they go after Snape if they didn't know _something_?"

Crabbe immediately came to mind. He'd since left school and been transferred to Durmstrang. Harry thought just as well, or else he would've killed the bastard.

"She's not stupid enough to go at something alone," Harry said flatly.

"No, she's not. But what makes you think she'd tell you, the Golden Boy of the wizarding world. Only folks in the Order know about Set. All she needs to do is knock him out of commission to give you the edge . . . or knock herself out and take him with her . . ."

"She's a Slytherin," Harry said unconvincingly. "They aren't into the martyr business."

"And yet there's Snape hanging on by a thread. The real world doesn't care what house you're from, Harry." He said nothing and stared at the floor. Angelina's cool fingers touched his cheek and he met her eyes. "Just . . . watch out for her, will you? Let her know the Johnsons are still her family and love her very much."

He nodded and swallow. "I will."

Angelina stood and gave him a half smile. "While you're at it, why don't you let her know you love her, too."

Harry slumped back in his chair and covered his eyes. He couldn't do that, the second part of Angelina's directive. He _wouldn't_ do that-not until things settled down and they could be sure Set and Voldemort were totally destroyed.

Until he was sure he would survive.

The prophecy loomed in the back of his mind-one of them had to die. The last thing Harry wanted to do was declare his love to Nia only to die and not be able to show her just how much . . . It wouldn't be fair to her _or_ to him.

But he wouldn't think about that now, because Hermione had just met his eyes and tilted her head to where the small cake was about to be cut.

Harry smiled and joined them, pushing less happier thoughts from his mind and resolving to talk to Nia soon.

Yet between studying for N.E.W.T.s, training, and Quidditch, "soon" became "later," and it was suddenly the last week in May, a few days before the Quidditch Cup between Gryffindor and Slytherin, and three weeks before he left Hogwarts forever . . . .well maybe not forever. There was, after all, a very important reason to visit.

And looming all over that was the threat of Voldemort and Set. As it was he'd been paired with Ginny for their training, and his nights were becoming more and more restless. Voldemort was up to something huge, and the very fact Harry's shields had gotten stronger left him unable to figure out exactly what Voldemort was planning.

The prophecy was going come to pass before the school year was over.

Meanwhile, Nia was becoming more and more secretive, and every time he tried to link with her, she'd shut him out.

It was unpleasant to be on the receiving end on those; he had new respect for Ron and Hermione . . . who were very much enjoying the married life. Ron's nights in the dormitory were few and far between; even the other mates had stopped commenting on his perpetually empty bed.

But this night it was his turn to be out past curfew, and he sat on the grassy knoll just below the castle, staring fondly at Hagrid's Hut and the Forbidden Forest just behind it . . . yes, he'd even miss that when he left.

Suddenly he saw a flash of gold through the trees as it passed through the moon's rays. Harry was intrigued, his curious nature compelling him to investigate. He knew a lot more spells now than he did during his first foray, though he wouldn't mind if he never saw a centaur or Aragog during this particular trip.

He chanted _Lumos_ and walked deeper into the forest, his body primed just in case there was an ambush. Soon he saw the familiar thestrals and petted the muzzle of one fondly.

Then he felt it, hard bursts of warm air on his neck and he whirled fast, only to be blinded by gold. Harry gasped and stepped back, startling the thestral behind him and causing him to neigh and rile up. Harry was a bit concerned himself, but had much better luck in concealing it. This was no thestral before him, nor was it a hippogriff; yet it certainly wasn't a regular horse because it had wings, and there was a darker gold spot in the center of its head.

And though Harry couldn't immediately place the beast, he knew it was one of the most beautiful animals he'd ever seen. He was just awed that the entire beast was gold-right down to the hooves! Harry approached it slowly, the animal's eyes never leaving his as he did so. It even seemed . . . amused? Whatever the case, Harry approached it as cautiously as he first approached Buckbeak, letting the animal make the final decision to fully engage or not. And like Buckbeak, the animal did, even nuzzling Harry's hand briefly.

The hair was so soft, it was almost as if his hand sunk into the coat. Even Buckbeak's coat was rough and firm, but this coat felt like silk between his fingers. Harry's hand slid from the muzzle to the neck, feeling the powerful muscles underneath. Again, the animal snuggled to him, and Harry didn't mind at all. In fact, he snuggled right back, and a feeling of serenity washed over him. He gingerly fingered the wings lightly, and they were very sensitive for they moved at his slight contact. Harry figured the animal was very fast--probably faster than his Firebolt.

The head nudged him, then look to its back. Harry bit his lip and sank both hands in its flanks. The "horse" nodded, and the amused glint reappeared in the golden eyes. Harry frowned, thinking something oddly familiar about those eyes, yet shrugged and caressed its flanks. The "horse" stomped a hoof and nodded to its back again.

It wanted Harry to mount.

Harry hesitated for a moment before doing just that. The "horse" even kneeled slightly to help him. It waited until Harry had a firm grip before moving, its steady walk picking up speed once they left the forest. It didn't take much to get it in the air, and the ride was far smoother than Buckbeak's was. They flew high, but not too high, and the wings were whisper quiet. It was as if they glided through the air, yet everything was a blur below them. Harry closed his eyes and lifted his face to the sky, spreading his arms wide and relishing in the wind going through his hair and across his skin. This was why he loved flying so much--the absolute freedom he felt was unparalleled in any other context of his life.

Soon they landed in a courtyard in Hogwarts, and he dismounted, trailing a hand over its flanks. The "horse backed away from him and sat, and there, before his very eyes, transformed into a short, crouched girl. Harry's hand drifted to his wand, but he gasped when he realized who she was.

Nia stood slowly, rolling her shoulders and stretching her arms high above her head. She was wearing a black leotard and sweatpants, and she glanced at the moon above. Harry was rooted to the spot in shock and awe.

"It's a pretty night, isn't it?" she asked, still looking skyward. Harry opened his mouth to answer but she continued to talk.

"I'd been practicing that for weeks now--changing into that unicorn. Grandma tells me its an ancient kind--far older than the ones with the traditional horn . . . Pegasus is a descendant of it, with the wings and all."

Harry approached her slowly, his hand slinking into hers. She looked at him then, a shy smile on her face.

"Nia?"

"Draco's a bull, if you can believe that. Explains the stubbornness, certainly, although I do think he was a bit disappointed he wasn't a dragon. Then again, his second form is a crocodile, so, there's the reptile for him."

"And do you know what I am?" Harry figured if they were animagi, then he must be as well.

Nia chuckled and squeezed his hand. "A lion, surprise, surprise, and an elephant. Grandma hasn't trained you for that yet?" Harry shook his head. "That's weird. Ginny's already turned into her griffon vulture, but I don't think she's turned into her other form."

"Which is?"

Nia smirked at him. "An Egyptian cobra."

Harry chuckled. "That should prove interesting."

"Yeah."

"And what's your other form?"

Nia chuckled. "A black kite. Can you believe that? Despite my fear of flying I am a bird. Fate sure is funny . . ."

He squeezed her hand in agreement. Harry knew there was a reason he hadn't been trained; then again, maybe he _didn't_ need to be trained--at least not yet. He had enough on his plate as it was.

She shook her head and wrapped her arms around his waist, burrowing her face in his chest. "I'm sorry, Harry."

His hands slid along her back as he brought her closer. "I understand . . . it's hard for you . . ."

Her head shook and she whispered "I'm sorry" again. Dread seeped into his bones and he held her tighter. Something told Harry this "sorry" was for a future deed, not for ones past.

"Dearest what's the matter?"

She only snuggled into him, her hold tightening. He moved his hand up her back to her neck, pulling her back to look into her eyes.

There was sadness and pain far more intense than when she found Snape in The Room. He kissed her forehead softly, hoping the slight gesture would ease her sorrow if only a little.

Nia sniffed and her shoulder's shook. "Why are you good to me? Lord, what have I done to . . ." she never finished the statement, merely snuggling further into him.

She didn't have to complete it; Harry was far too familiar with the question. Whatever he'd done in the past life that lead to Nia being in his life, he'd happily do it again ten-fold. Being the reincarnate of Apedemak notwithstanding, Harry knew what he felt for the girl before him was just as strong independent of whatever divine force thousands of years in the making.

"Nia, love, look at me."

She pulled back, her face streaked with tears. He took his thumbs and tenderly wiped them away. She closed her eyes and more fell and she began to shake her head. "Why are you so good to me?" she croaked.

"Because I love you."

He broke the vow he made to himself. Angelina was right--Nia _had _to know. Ron was right--if there was no love why bother? He loved the girl before him, and if anyone had a right to know that it was her.

Nia stiffened and stepped back. "Oh God Harry don't tell me that!"

Harry shook his head and went forward, his hands cradling her face. "I should've told you much sooner; I've wasted so much time as it is."

"But we're so young . . ." Nia whispered, then she shook her head, moving away from him again. "You're just confusing Apedemak's feelings for your own. I see. Really Harry, you don't have to--"

Harry kissed her, endeared by her disbelief. He hoped the kiss would corroborate his words, for he certainly meant them as Harry Potter, not Apedemak reincarnated. Soon her arms went around his neck and he lifted her in his arms. She pulled back and buried her face in his neck.

"You love me?" she whispered.

"Madly."

"Harry Potter loves me?"

He chuckled and kissed her temple. "Completely."

She said nothing else, her body trembling as she held onto him as if she were afraid he'd leave. Harry knew she had no need to worry.

Not even death would keep him away from her.


	17. Seventeen

_Seventeen_

It was far too bright for his liking, and he blinked his eyes rapidly to adjust them to the sudden light. It was a temperate place, with aromatic pleasures hitting his nose and the occasional chirp of birds and wind rustling through the grass.

He clearly wasn't in England anymore.

He tried to sit up but firm pressure on his shoulders stopped him, accompanied by a soft, feminine "easy now" as his back hit something soft and rounded.

And it wasn't a pillow.

He turned his head to the left and saw a knee--a dark brown knee with a darkened, crescent like scar along the upper curve of it, and there was only one person in the world who could possibly have that scar.

_But she's—_

"Right here, love. I'm right here . . ."

He turned quickly, and was greeted with a stomach. The voice chuckled and tilted his head upward where his eyes greeted golden ones.

And they didn't belong to Nia.

"Malika . . ."

She smiled brightly, then bent her head to place her lips on his. He immediately deepened the kiss, it being five long years since he last done so.

"My love . . ." he murmured against her lips.

She kissed him harder before pulling away to clutch him to her. "Severus . . ."

His heart leapt at the sound of his name coming from her lips. He'd only had his Pensieve to hear it such, but his name coming from the real thing held no rival in how much pleasure he got from it.

Yet if he was here, with Malika, that could only mean--

"No . . ." he whispered, pulling back and shaking his head, scrambling out of Malika's lap and trembling.

Malika looked at his sadly and bit her lip, nodding. "Yes. You are."

He ran a hand through his hair. "But Nia--"

"Will be fine," Malika reassured him. "She will."

"I can't just leave her alone--"

"She's not alone, love. She has Mama and Caleb and Draco, Ginny--she has _Harry_ . . ."

Severus scowled at that last name. "Harry Potter . . ."

"My, my, Severus, if I didn't know any better I'd say you didn't _like _my son . . ."

It was then Severus realized he was in the hottest circle of hell, and his scowl deepened. "James Potter . . ."

"James . . ."

Severus stopped glaring at the bespectacled man to regard his wife, a far more pleasant Potter than the former. "Lily."

The redhead embraced him warmly. "You're here far too soon," she whispered.

"Then how do I return?" Severus asked once Lily let go of him. Potter shook his head and Malika linked her fingers through his. "I certainly cannot stay here. My daughter needs me!"

"And Harry needed us, too! Yet here we remained. Few return to the land of the living, Snape. You may as well get comfortable here."

Severus glared at the other man. "Even if the after life you're still a pain in the ar—"

"Come with me, Severus," Malika said, looking sharply at Potter before walking Severus to a secluded spot in the garden paradise. Birds chirped, wind blew softly, and the weather was moderate, yet Snape was highly disgruntled.

"Is it true I will not return?"

Malika looked at him and sighed, sinking to the ground. Severus towered over her for a moment before following suit, sitting with her between his legs. "Partly true," she murmured.

"Lovely."

Malika sucked her teeth and shook her head. "I missed you. It's impossible to miss you when you're alive, but now that you're here . . . I'm suddenly aware how _much _I missed you."

Severus threaded his fingers through hers and kissed her hair. "But I am here now, love, and apparently I won't be going anywhere . . ."

She snuggled into him, kissing the underside of his jaw. "You never did, love. You've been with me all along; I watched you in the reflecting pool. You were rather nasty to Sirius during the Shrieking Shack incident four years ago, babe . . ."

"I thought he was trying to kill Potter," he said blandly, tightening his arms around her.

"And now he's shagging Mama . . . to think . . . I thought he liked me," she pouted.

Severus looked at her sharply. "You sound way too disappointed, love."

She laughed. "Who wouldn't? He's oh so dreamy . . ."

"Too bad your daughter saved his life . . ."

His voice trailed and Malika grasped his hand, kissing the back of it and placing it on over her heart. "All with your guidance. I wish you were her father . . ."

Severus felt his throat go tight and he cleared it. "Everything happens the way it should."

Malika snorted. "Not everything. If it did, Set wouldn't be terrorizing the world now."

Severus sighed. "So what does this mean, then? What does my death mean for . . . Nia and the others?"

"Well, I do know this—she can't bring you back; at least not yet."

Severus nodded. "I see. I don't think Little One will appreciate that bit of news."

"She won't; in fact I'm sure she'll try to do it. If she does then you'll _never_ be resurrected."

"Well why can't she?"

"She's not ready."

Severus frowned. "Why?"

"Well for one, she's not old enough yet."

Severus rolled his eyes. "She's one of the most proficient witches I've ever seen. Just the things she's accomplished lead me to believe that's all rubbish."

Malika lifted her eyebrows and shrugged. "Caleb _was_ a Ravenclaw . . ."

He scowled, kissing her knuckles. "You _are_ the descendant of Aset . . ."

Malika smiled shyly. "You have a very valid point, Honey, but the fact remains she really isn't old enough. Thing happen at a specific time and in a specific way. Once she is old enough she'll be able to set into motion events that will finally allow her to face Set."

Severus said nothing, wrapping his arms around Malika tightly. "Mind telling me what these events are?"

Malika shook her head, burrowing into him, and smirked. "I don't think you wanna know . . ."  
  
&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

The Great Hall was strangely quiet this breakfast, especially the Slytherin table. The news Dumbledore just shared completely shocked everyone. Snape couldn't be—Draco couldn't even think it let alone say it.

He ran a shaky hand through his blond hair, then dropped it heavily on the table. He knew his hand should hurt, considering the loud crack that echoed through the large room, but Draco could feel nothing. His flat, silver eyes regarded everyone with cool detachment, almost hoping someone would jump up and start cheering that the surly Potions Master wouldn't darken the dungeons anymore. At least then, he'd have an object upon which to unleash his fury. He could feel the magic flowing in him, begging for release on anything and everything.

Someone sniffled, and Draco was vaguely surprised to see it was Pansy shedding the tears. There was certainly very little love lost between the two, but now that Crabbe was at Durmstrang, she'd seemed to soften a bit . . . lose the edge that'd made her such an overbearing bint.

Draco's lip curled unconsciously. He'd just bet Crabbe got in his licks on Snape good; taking out his frustration of being caught playing for the Dark Lord.

_Fucking Dark Lord,_ he thought, clutching his knife so forcefully it began to glow silver. He didn't notice until Goyle nudged his arm, giving him, then his knife a sharp look. He threw it on the table, causing it to clatter noisily and the sound to echo.

"Fuck him," Draco muttered. He grasped his head, frowning, confused, lost . . . what did this mean? What did this mean for him and Nia?

_Where _was_ Nia? . . ._

She certainly wasn't to his right, where she usually sat every morning without fail. She was nowhere to be seen. Draco's eyes drifted to the Gryffindor table, half-expecting to see grins and hands being slapped in celebration, yet they were just as sorry a lot as the rest of them. Ginny, his Ginger, was sobbing profusely, and Granger hugged her, tears drifting from her eyes as well. Weasel seemed more confused than anything else; as if Snape just gave him the world's hardest Potion to make and had no idea to go about it.

Potter . . . was looking at him, then to the conspicuously empty space next to him. Draco arched an eyebrow and gave an imperceptible shake of his head.

_Have you seen her at all?_

Draco's ear twitched as Potter's voice filtered through his head. Draco gave Potter a mild glare, then shook his head. Knowing Jamilah, they probably gave Nia the news privately . . . or Nia just knew. Draco looked to the Head Table, and Jamilah was not there.

_You think—_

_I just tried to Link with Nia . . . she's not receiving me. I'm really worried, Draco._

His eyes widened when Potter used his first name. If he had doubts before about Potter's intentions toward his "Little One", they were answered just then. Draco gave Potter another imperceptible nod and rose, keenly aware of them being the object of everyone else's attention.

_Draco—_

_We're going to find Nia, love._ He told Ginny through the link, and was glad when Ginny decided to stay. It wouldn't do well to alarm the other two of the Golden Trio, and Ginny's presence would quell their curiosity just enough.

"You don't think she'd—"

"Not without me," Draco replied, and the two continued to walk in silence.

_She better not have gone without me,_ he thought to himself as they turned the corner. It was then he realized they were on the way to the training room; he having made the trek there so many times in the past few weeks it because automatic. Draco hoped she was there—still there he should say. Among the cardinal rules of a Slytherin was to go into a fight with all of one's faculties. Passion could be a deadly hindrance to one's goals.

_She _is_ half-Gryff,_ he thought sardonically, but now was not the time for the fiery Gryffindoric zeal to flare. Nia had to have all her wits about her when they went to Set and Voldemort. Anything less could get her killed, and if she died, they may as well hand over the world to Set with a gold bow.

Just as Draco expected, they found her in the training room, beating the mess out of the punching bag—literally. The stuffing fell softly as snow to the blue mat, yet he didn't think she recognized that fact. She was going at it raw, too, her fists becoming red and bloody with each blow. Her face was hard, like stone, so different from how it usually was.

Draco sighed, and Potter frowned, running a hand through his unruly black hair. This was better than expected, but still not good. Nia would hurt herself if she kept going the way she was, and Draco thought her aggression would be put to better, happier use against Voldie and Set.

The sound of the punching bag crashing to the floor snapped him out of his thoughts, but it didn't seem to phase her one bit. Crimson drops fell on blue as she walked to the weapon wall, pulling out her favorite—the bo stick—and began twirling it expertly. A sheen of sweat glisten against her dark skin and one drop trailed from her neck to the valley of her breasts hidden from his view. Draco couldn't help but be impressed at her skill, no movement wasted and every one with a purpose.

And her purpose was clearly to destroy.

The mirror shattered as she rammed the stick into it, and apparently, Potter knew enough was enough. He pulled out his wand to fix it, but she merely destroyed it again, then knocked off the balance bar from the wall. Potter pocketed his wand, knowing it would take physical strength to stop her.

_I wouldn't do that if I were you. _Draco intoned.

_She needs to stop!_

_She needs to _grieve

Potter glared at him, and Draco threw up his arms in surrender. If Potter wanted to turn out like Nearly Headless Nick, then by all means . . .who was _he_ to stop him?

"Nia—"

Potter narrowly missed the stick by ducking, and he kicked out a leg, sending her sprawling to the ground. Nia jumped back up, twirling the stick behind her back, then bringing it to connect with his side. Potter groaned and staggered, but gripped the weapon when it came at him again. She didn't release her grip, and stared him down. The eyes were becoming gold and so was the stick, and he quickly let go of it. Draco snickered. At least Potter wasn't _so_ stupid to try his luck when she began to glow.

Nia glanced down at the stick and threw it away from them, where it exploded in mid-air. Some bits of wood them in the face, but Nia seemed unaffected by it.

Both men watched her, breathing heavily while her hands clenched into fists. She was about to go for another weapon but Potter stepped in front of her, grasping her shoulders.

"Nia—"

"Go away, Harry." Her tone was flat and she looked over his shoulder to the destroyed wall.

"Nia, he's gone," he whispered, his hold on her tightening.

_Stupid Potter._

She slid her eyes to his. "Fuck you, Harry."

Draco smirked. Nia was definitely better than he hoped she would be.

She tried to step around, but Potter grasped her waist, pulling her back against his front. "Being mad won't bring him back."

"I brought Draco back," she reminded him monotonously, glancing in the blond's direction.

"Brilliant job that was, love," Draco drawled, trying to lighten the mood. He shrugged when two pairs of eyes rolled at him.

"Sirius came back. I know I can bring my father back . . ."

"How? He didn't die from magical causes. He died from injuries caused the Muggle way," Potter reminded her, and Draco knew that was not the wisest thing he could've done.

Nia spun around, her eyes flashing dangerously. "THERE HAS TO BE A WAY!" She was shaking violently and her fists began to pound his chest. "There _has_ to be a way!"

Potter wrapped his arms around her, even as she hit him repeatedly. "He's gone . . ."

"NO!"

Draco felt tears sting his eyes and he blinked rapidly, seeing Potter press a kiss to her temple. "I'm so sorry, love."

"No."

"Nia—"

"Dumbledore's a liar, Harry," she said, her voice cold.

Admittedly, that was Draco's first thought, too, but when he saw no sparkle in the eccentric man's eye, Draco knew it was the truth.

"Stop it! Don't do this to yourself!" Potter said, growing angry.

"Don't you yell at her, Potter," Draco said lowly. "She's not deaf."

"But she's not listening to reason!" Potter defended.

Nia looked between them in a mixture of annoyance and anger. "Daddy wouldn't leave me alone, Harry! He promised!" Nia's voice was full of pain, and his heart ached. "He would've said good-bye if he did! He wouldn't just LEAVE ME HERE!"

Her fists hit Potter's shoulders, then slid down his body as she fell to the ground, her face buried in her lap. Her body shook with sobs, heart-wrenching sobs that scared Draco to death. There it was, Draco thought, the point where it hit her. He only hoped Nia wouldn't do something rash and get _herself_ killed.

He'd be damned if that happened.

Potter kneeled before her, pulling her up gently and cupping her face in both of his hands. A tear fell down his cheek. "WE will figure this out, do you hear me, Nia? Don't you do something stupid—"

"What's so stupid about me wanting to kill Set and Voldemort? I want them to pay!" she snarled.

"And I want you to live! _I_ _love you_, Nia Roberts, and I'll be damned if you end up like Snape," he whispered, shaking her a bit.

"You think so little of me—"

"I think the _world_ of you, which is why when you go after them, you take me with you. They killed my parents, too." Potter whispered, wiping her tears with his thumbs.

She stared at him, then nodded. "I will."

Potter breathed a sigh of relief before kissing her gently, then held her as she mourned the loss of her father.

Draco watched them for a moment before backing out of the room silently. At least the bloke finally told her his feelings. It would make what he and Nia had to do all the more easy.

Footsteps echoed in the hallway and he turned to see Ginny approaching him. Tears glistened from her flushed cheeks and her bottom lip was swollen from her biting it. Draco regarded her with a blank expression, and Ginny let out a shuddering breath before rushing into his arms. Automatically they went around her, and he buried his face in her red hair.

"I'm so sorry, Draco . . . so sorry . . ."

He held her tighter in response, taking long, calming breaths as he was determined not to cry. She put her cheek on his chest, rubbing the small of his back with her fingers. The gesture soothed him considerably, and soon his breathing returned to normal.

"He didn't deserve to die," Ginny whispered after a few moments.

"No, he didn't. But he won't die in vain."

Ginny squeezed his waist. "Don't do anything stupid. You died once already. That's all I think I can take!"

He dropped a kiss to her head. "The only people who'll die now are Set and Voldemort. They played their hand; now it's time we played ours."

Ginny shook her head. "I don't want you killed—"

"And I won't be, love. You've just got to trust me."

She pulled back, her brown eyes full of tears even though she had a grin on her face. "I trust _you_ . . . it's those damn Death Eaters I wouldn't trust with my raggedy _robes_ let alone _you_!"

Draco looked up with a quick lift of his eyebrows. "Nice to know you equate me with your hand-me-downs, love."

Ginny sniffled again and laughed, arching her eyebrow. "Wanna know what else I equate you with?"

Draco grinned and nuzzled her nose with his. "As long as you say, 'the love of my life', I think I can oblige you."

She nodded and kissed his lips lightly. "That's funny . . . I didn't feel you enter my mind but you totally read it . . ."

Draco was glad Ginny was here—in his arms and completely safe. He _needed_ her to stay safe; the amount of people he completely loved and cared for could fit easily on one hand, and now one of them was dead. That was one too many according to Draco, and Voldie and Set would rue the day they hacked him off.

Potter came out of the training room with Nia's hand intertwined with his. Nia looked at Draco sadly, then closed her eyes, beginning to cry again. Ginny let him go and he went to Nia, just holding her as she cried. Potter put his arms around Ginny's shoulder as she pressed her face into his chest, crying as well. A look passed between the two boys; a look of vengeance and understanding.

Voldemort and Set would definitely pay.

"I want to go to the Room," Nia murmured after a few minutes, pulling away from Draco and he wiped her cheeks. "I need some advice on how to handle the . . . situation . . ."

Potter nodded. "I think that's a good idea. They were certainly helpful when—" Ginny whimpered and Draco's heart clenched. There was no need to revisit that time in history.

The four of them went up the stairs, and the landing was thankfully present for them. Once they entered, the gods looked upon them with sadness in their eyes; but Apedemak looked more angry than mad.

"If I could, I'd kill that bastard with my bare hands," the lion-headed god muttered once the door shut firmly behind them and disappeared.

"Then why in heaven's name are you in battle mode, then?" Asar asked with a long-suffering sigh. "You are nothing more than paint and wall!"

Draco snickered and he shrugged at Potter's glare. "My guy has a point, you know."

Apedemak peered at Draco then tilted his head toward Potter. "You'll settle the score for me, won't you dear boy?"

Potter glanced at Nia, who was staring blankly at a spot on the floor. "If I have to die doing it, sir."

"The hell you will!" Nia snapped, pinning sharp eyes on Potter. "No more deaths, do you hear me! No more!"

"Nia—" Aset began, but her reincarnate cut her off with a loud groan.

"This ends right now!" Nia vowed, pulling away from Draco and marching up to the mural. "How many more millennia, huh? How many more people before _one_ of us gets it right? It's been FAR too long! They've had theirs coming _far too long!_ It ends now! This year! No more mistakes or missteps!"

Aset shook her head slowly. "But it won't—at least not totally."

Draco watched Nia's shoulders slump and the wind leave her sails. This whole reincarnate thing had made him soft, he reasoned, for he felt remorse and helpless despite all his Slytherin cunning. "Then why the hell do we bother, then?" Draco snapped, not liking that helpless feeling. He grew level to Nia, glaring at the four painted figures. "All this talk about how we can do it, and you're telling us we _can't_?! Why do we do this then?"

Nebt-het gave them a sympathetic glance. "You're not ready—not completely anyway."

Nia's hands began to glow and the gods eyed her warily. The younger girl took a series of deep breaths before regarding them with a sarcastic smile. "Why am I not ready, then? What's all the training I've done with Draco these past few months if not to get me ready?"

"You're simply not old enough, love."

Nia was ready to retort but Draco covered her mouth.

"What do you mean?" Ginny asked, coming next to Draco. Potter stood on the other side of Nia and they waited for the answer.

"She's not of age yet. That's part of the reason you've been kept out of the battles, Nia," Aset said patiently. Nia's tense posture relaxed some, but she frowned in confusion.

"But I thought—"

"Believe me, if you were old enough now, you could whip those two blokes good," Apedemak said with pride, winking at Aset. "But while you are a formidable witch, you are not yet old enough to completely vanquish Set permanently. Similar to why Voldemort didn't completely die when Harry was a baby."

"And now it's harder to kill him," Nebt-het added. "It'll take a lot of power, Harry, to totally annihilate Voldemort."

"Power I've got; it's the time that's running out . . ." Potter murmured with a glance toward Nia and Draco.

"So what are Ginny and I supposed to do then? Cheer Nia and Potter on? We're reincarnates, too!"

Apedemak rolled his eyes. "Are all your reincarnates this self-absorbed, Asar?"

"Shove off!" the other god replied.

Aset and Nebt-het sighed and shook their heads. "Another reason why Set and Thanatos are running around like they are! You two are so childish it's unbelievable!"

The two gods looked down, properly chastised for their behavior. Potter and Draco shared an amused glance, considering they'd had their own share of chastising from Ginny and Nia.

"How old does she have to be, then, before she can fight them?" Ginny asked, getting the conversation back on track.

There was silence, and it made Draco uneasy. Nia lifted her eyes to the ceiling and Potter took her hand and squeezed.

"Honestly, we do not know," Aset said finally. The four teenagers gave incredulous sighs and Aset talked quickly to explain. "It's different for every reincarnate, I mean; but we do know that no one has ever been able to face Set or Thanatos under fifteen years of age."

"My birthday is next week. I'll be fifteen then," Nia said flatly.

Asar shrugged. "Aset was almost thirty before she was ready to fight Set; even then there were circumstances that allowed him to get away. That is one secret we cannot answer for you, because we don't know. The One has yet to reveal that to us, and I'm quite sure he won't reveal it to you, either."

Draco rolled his eyes, annoyed. "This is just great! We're pretty much sitting ducks, then!"

"We cannot wait until Nia's thirty, either! We may not live that long!" Potter exclaimed.

"Well _sorry_ I wasn't born fifteen years earlier!"

Potter grinned and kissed Nia's temple. "Not that it would've mattered if you were; I'd still love you anyway . . ."

Draco thought he'd be sick, and Ginny pinched him, giving him a glare that clearly told him to behave. He swallowed a snicker when he saw Asar had the same reaction he did.

Great minds truly did think alike.

"Well then, how will I know? How do I know I'm finally ready to face them?" Nia asked.

Aset sighed, then shrugged. "You'll just know."

Ginny frowned. "There has to be more to it than _that!_"

Draco thought the same, and by the surreptitious glances the gods were giving each other, they knew there was more than they divulged.

Nebt-het looked at them a bit helplessly. "That's all we can tell you at the moment, dears. Some of these things you'll have to discover for yourselves." She was looking pointedly at Potter and Nia, and Draco arched an eyebrow, his mind turning the words over in his head.

"But what—" Ginny began, fruitlessly. The mural had gone still; obviously done with saying whatever information they were allowed to give. The quartet walked back to the stairs, seeming more lost than found after the very odd meeting.

"Should we go to Dumbledore with this information?" Potter said before they reached the stairs.

"If the gods could tell us only that, what else could Dumbledore day? He's not a god!" Ginny reminded them.

"He is a reincarnate, though. Maybe he _does _know . . . he's not under The One's influence, you think?" Potter pointed out.

Nia and Draco remained quiet throughout the discussion. The only thing Draco could suspect to making Nia ready was some sort of ritual; but what kind? Would Nia have to do some sort of Conception Ritual like her mother did, or Ginny almost did? Virgins contained very powerful magic; perhaps Nia would have to lose her virginity in order to gain her full powers . . .

Draco shuddered. No wonder the gods didn't want to go into detail about that! Nia was _certainly_ too young to engage in that kind of activity—with Potter no less! Draco clenched his fists, thinking how close the two came on their first date . . . that definitely would've been too soon for the cause; if only because Nia wasn't fully mature enough yet.

Draco regarded the two as they made their way downstairs. Potter was so close to her it was amazing they could walk downstairs without tripping over each other. There was nothing sexual about the contact, however; more like Potter reassuring Nia he wasn't going anywhere anytime soon; that he could be dependable and her shoulder to cry on should she need it.

Draco's lip curled at the thought.

"After all that's happened, all that we've learned, you still have the gall to sneer at them," Ginny said through the side of her mouth, slipping her arm through his.

Draco continued to glare at the couple even as he dropped a kiss to Ginny's temple. "I know why Nia's not ready yet, or won't be for a while."

Ginny's eyes widened. "Really? Pray tell."

The words left an unpleasant taste, and he all but spat them out. "She's a _virgin_ . . ."

Ginny blinked, then covered her mouth, but not before a few giggles slipped through it. "Oh my! You mean she and Harry—"

"He will _not_ touch her," Draco snarled, his lip curling even more.

Ginny gave him a sharp look and slapped his arm, casting a glance at the other couple as they went further into the dungeons. "You can't say that! If it means Set's final destruction, why aren't you all for it? It'll bring Snape back, apparently . . ."

"But they have to—" Draco began, then shuddered. He didn't want to think of that git touching Nia.

Ginny smirked. "You're so like Ron it's not even funny."

Draco stopped walking and gave her an icy stare. "Don't ever liken me to that Weasel."

Ginny shrugged and grinned, still walking. "Well you _are_. I'd imagine Snape would be just like my father if—" She frowned, then her lip began to tremble. "If he were _alive_ . . ."

That put things in perspective for Draco, and he nodded, swallowing down the lump in his throat. "We'll get him back. We have to. Nia needs him."

"You need him, too," Ginny murmured as she went to him, linking her fingers through his.

"I'm of age," Draco muttered.

"Doesn't mean you don't need him. Bill and Charlie still need my Dad and they're certainly of age. Snape is your family, just as much as Nia is."

Draco said nothing, kissing Ginny's temple as they turned the corner. Potter and Nia went into the Potions classroom, and his steps grew heavy. He didn't know if he was quite ready to go in yet, his emotions raw despite his snarky front.

"You'll have to face it sometime," Ginny said kindly, her own voice hoarse.

He stopped walking, a few spaces from the door. "But it's too bloody soon. We just _got_ the news!"

Ginny kissed his knuckles, leaning against the wall behind them. "I know, love . . . I know . . ."

He swallowed thickly, glancing at Ginny then the door. "I—this . . . Nia's in there," he settled on finally.

Ginny nodded. "And she needs you."

Draco took a deep breath, and with his hand firmly ensconced in Ginny's, went into the classroom. Dumbledore was there, standing at Snape's desk without the familiar twinkle in his eye.

"We should meet there so we may discuss . . ." Dumbledore trailed off, closing his eyes for a moment before clearing his throat to continue. "What needs to be discussed."

Draco gave a short nod, then went into Sirius's room. He saw Jamilah sitting on the couch, one hand in Sirius's, the other holding a tissue to her weeping eyes. Sirius was staring at the coffee table, his jaw set firm and eyes dead. Though there was no love lost between the two men, Draco knew Sirius was just as affected by Snape's death as everyone else in the room. Nia was in a straight-back chair; Potter stood behind it, grasping the posts of her chair. He was also staring at the coffee table, his green eyes a bit bright considering the darkness of the room and in the air in general.

Ginny pulled Draco down to share the loveseat with her, and Dumbledore sat in the easy chair at the "head" of the coffee table. The wizened wizard looked at each occupant in the room with gave eyes, before steepling his hand and placing them under his chair.

"Well . . ." he began, the word a sigh full of consternation, sadness, and resolve. "It seems we're in a bit of a . . . situation . . ." Draco glared at Dumbledore, bristling at the choice of words. Ginny rubbed his hand to calm him. "And by situation," Dumbledore continued, with a brief glance in Draco's direction, "I mean, that of retaliation. Severus's death will not go unpunished, nor with the many other deaths caused by Voldemort and his followers, but this particular death hits a little too close to home for some _very _important people in the battle."

Dumbledore regarded Draco and Nia gravely. "Do not do anything rash."

Nia sucked her teeth and slumped in her chair. "We already _got_ this lecture."

Dumbledore grinned slightly at the young Slytherin. "And it is so important, I deign you to hear it again."

"You _cannot_ go after Voldemort _or_ Set—particularly not now," Jamilah said with a pointed look to her granddaughter.

"And why not?"

"Because they're expecting you to, and they are far more ready and have less to lose and all to gain," Dumbledore said patiently.

Nia glared at the adults. "And just _what_ do I have left to lose, huh? Everyone's dyin' around me and it's all my fault! Maybe I should give myself up and everyone won't have to deal with this _crap_ anymore!"

Potter put his hands on Nia's shoulders and squeezed. She embraced the gesture, eyes closing and a soft, frustrated sigh escaping her.

Dumbledore's eyes flitted to Jamilah before looking at Draco. "She's not ready, Draco. You know this."

He frowned but nodded. "I know. But she's right; we have to do _something_—_anything_ to rock their foundation a bit. Right now, they think they have nothing to lose. There has to be _something_!"

Dumbledore sighed, looking from Sirius to Potter. "There is something."

Potter stood straighter, looking at none by Dumbledore. "I have to fulfill the prophecy, don't I?"

Dumbledore nodded. "Before the end of term, or the adversary you face may grow far beyond any of your capabilities. Severus's death strengthened them far more than I imagined—not in terms of magic, but in terms of resolve, of confidence. A spirit strengthened does much for ability."

"Which is why, as hard as it may be, you four especially need to find the positive, the silver linin' in all this, or else the lack of spirit will lead us all to trouble," Jamilah predicted. Sirius squeezed her hand in support.

Draco snorted. "Why don't you pick someone from the other three houses. We all know Snape's death isn't really bringing tears of sadness to the _other_ houses . . ."

He felt Potter's glare and heard Ginny's indignant gasp, but ignored them. Draco remembered hearing his schoolmates wish a slow, painful death to the Potions Master many times in the past. Well, they got their wish, didn't they?

"I don't think that's entirely justified, Draco," Dumbledore said quietly.

"He has a point, you know," Nia said, her voice hard as steel. "No one liked my father; the people in Slytherin barely tolerated him!"

"But it's unfair—" Potter began.

Nia jumped out her chair and whirled to face him. "Is it? Tell me something, Harry: are you _really_ upset he's gone? Hell! You and Weasley were the founders of the 'I-Hate-Snape' club!"

"Actually . . ." Sirius began hesitantly.

Nia sucked her teeth and rolled her eyes at Potter's godfather. "Don't even get me started on you . . ."

"Nia! I know you're hurtin', but you ain't grown yet!" Jamilah snapped.

Nia raised her eyebrows in sarcastic revelation. "And that's precisely the problem, ain't it? 'I ain't grown!' Why the hell is all this happening now when I can't do a damn thing about it?"

Jamilah's eyes furrowed, no doubt at her granddaughter's dirty mouth, but did not chastise. That was a very fair, valid question in Draco's mind. If they were supposed to be the four reincarnates, why not four who could actually _do_ something about it while the battle ensued?

Dumbledore placed his hands in his lap. "I need to talk to Nia and Draco alone."

Their reluctance to leave was apparent by the slow pace they took following Dumbledore's orders. Neither Nia nor Draco looked at the others as they left, Draco finding his nails far more fascinating than they should be.

When the door clicked shut, silence reigned in the room before Dumbledore's soft voice took over.

"Do not do anything rash."

Nia snickered and Draco smirked. "I thought you said that already."

Dumbledore smiled a bit. "But you've been planning something ever since Severus was hurt."

Draco shrugged, not bothering to deny it. The headmaster knew everything anyway.

"But we have to do something, Grandpa Albus," Nia said with frustration. "We can't just _sit_ here and let them get away with it!"

Dumbledore nodded, regarding both of them with curious expressions. "What was it you've been planning?"

The two teens gave each other quick glances before Draco cleared his throat. "Invisibility . . . without the aid of a cloak."

"And flying without a broom," Nia added.

Dumbledore's eyebrows rose. "And have either of you been successful yet?"

The two looked a bit dejected. "Not yet," Draco admitted. "But we're close to figuring out the Invisibility Spell."

"Have you tried potions?" Dumbledore asked.

Nia sniffed and Draco gave her a sympathetic look. "Potions aren't what we want. It has to be something we can command at will at anytime, any place."

"Without the use of wands, too, I imagine," Dumbledore added.

"We'd been going to the gods for advice, and they've given us some. But I don't think they'll continue to help us since they know I want to go fight," Nia muttered.

"But you can't, love. You're not ready," Dumbledore reminded her.

Nia left her seat and began pacing around the room. "Sometimes you have to force Fate's hand, and I intend to do that! I ain't gonna just sit on my bum and wait for myself to get older! I know I can be of use, and if we ever figure out the Invisibility problem, I can do that without being seen."

Dumbledore stood as well, and went to Nia, grasping her shoulders gently. "I still discourage the thought. Your intentions are good, Little One, but you belittle your importance to the cause. What is the point of winning one battle if we lose the war at the end?"

Draco stood and walked to Nia, rubbing her back in comfort. "With all due respect, Headmaster, we've thought this through, and it is a chance we're willing to take."

"Dra—"

"Losing is not an option—certainly not a Slytherin's option," Draco interrupted. "We will not get caught."

Dumbledore put his arms behind his back, staring intently at his two students. "Set is no paltry opponent. He's survived millennia because he's such a powerful god. You not being ready, my dear, puts him at a distinct advantage."

Nia smirked. "This is why I'll be invisible, Grandpa Albus. He can't destroy what he can't see . . ."

Dumbledore remained unconvinced. "And what makes you think you will succeed in this . . . plan?"

Draco smirked, raising a pale, think eyebrow. "Simply because failure is not an option, and revenge is most definitely sweet. It takes a Slytherin to beat a Slytherin."

Dumbledore smiled kindly. "Pettigrew was a Gryffindor."

Draco winced. He'd forgotten, but Nia laughed; clearly she didn't.

"I'm half Gryffindor and half Ravenclaw, and I'm in Slytherin, yet Hufflepuff in my loyalty. Pettigrew is mine."

Dumbledore nodded, the same disturbingly kind smile on his face. "How convenient. Set thinks you are his, too."


	18. Eighteen

_Eighteen_

Success was at hand; he could almost taste it.

Once he had gotten word of Severus's death, a slow, menacing smile crept upon his face. If he knew anything, that righteous Harry Potter would come rushing to him, wand blazing, and he'd run the little Mudblood right into the ground.

Voldemort cackled in glee.

He looked to his partner, yet his face wasn't nearly so gay. The shorter man scowled into his wine glass, twirling it idly in his hands.

"Why do you look so sore, Pettigrew? We are one step closer to complete domination!"

Pettigrew glared at him, then shook his head dejectedly. "It will not be so easy. They have something."

If Voldemort had eyes to roll, he would, but he groaned instead. "They have no way of knowing our plans! The mole has been obliterated! The last day of Hogwarts will be the first day of our dominion over the wizarding world!"

Pettigrew laughed, yet it held no humor. "Surely you cannot be so dim! Just because Snape is no longer a threat does not mean the Order—the _reincarnates_ do not have an advantage! Haven't you wondered why no one has come to 'avenge' Snape's death?!"

Voldemort shrugged, sitting on his "throne." "No one liked the man, anyway! He was a wee bit surly, don't you think?"

Pettigrew lifted his glass to his lips, snorting briefly. "As if you're all rays of sunshine . . ." The glass exploded before he could take a proper sip, shards imbedding themselves in his lips and cheeks. Pettigrew sighed again, waving his hand across his face, and his injuries disappeared. "Aren't we too old to throw tantrums, Thanatos?"

A low rumble came from the other man, and he plopped his head in his hands, frowning at the floor. "Why must you take my sadistic glee away?"

Pettigrew circled his fingers around the broken glass until it reformed. He refilled it and took another sip, his eyes trained warningly upon Voldemort. "You haven't properly gained it nor secured it. Until Potter and the other reincarnates are dead, there will be no celebration.

Voldemort flung himself out of his chair and began pacing again. "Then _why_ don't we just lure them out now? I and my followers are sick of waiting!"

Pettigrew narrowed his eyes, trying to send some common sense to the other. "We are trying to take over the world! It is no simple endeavor! If you can't get your mind off of revenge against Potter this mission will fail!"

Voldemort's red eyes twitched, but he returned to his seat, placing his head in his hands again. "Last day of Hogwarts, huh?"

A slow smile crept on Pettigrew's face, and he sat straighter in his chair. "The last day. . . that's so 'typical'. . . . three days before the last day."

Voldemort furrowed his eyebrows, then relaxed his face into a pleased expression. "Element of surprise . . ."

Pettigrew took another drink of his wine as he lifted his eyebrows, swishing it around in his mouth to enjoy the flavor, before swallowing. "Exactly. Perhaps there's hope for you yet, Voldie."

Voldemort gripped the arms of his throne, his lip curled and drool dribbling from his mouth. "And none for the Light!"

&&&&&&&

It was N.E.W.T.s time at Hogwarts, and the stress and sullenness of the past while became suffocating. There was a memorial for Professor Snape in the Great Hall a week after his passing, and surprisingly everyone was respectful and sorrowful. The Houses were all mixed together, a show of unity that rarely occured outside of the Hogwarts Express and Kings Cross Station. Ginny stood with Nia during the remembrance, hugging the younger girl's arm as tears silently fell down her cheeks. Those golden eyes, usually so full of light and a little bit of mischief, were as gray as Draco's that day, and as dead as the father she mourned. Draco stood with Dumbledore and the other faculty, since the Head Boy and Girl were a part of the service. Harry stood to Ginny's other side, his face giving away nothing as he took in the event in his silent, reticent way. He almost behaved in the same manner he did after Sirius's death, something that surprised Ginny greatly. Then again, one's soul mate tended to share the grief of the other, so perhaps Ginny shouldn't have been so surprised.

This explained why she was at the Head Boy's door so late at night, ironically, two hours shy of the clock's chime to signal her birthday. Ginny wasn't there for that, however; she wanted to make sure Draco was eating properly. . . getting enough rest. . . not plotting to get himself killed again . . .

No sooner had she lifted her fist to knock on the door did it open, and she took hesitant steps through the door. Draco was nowhere to be seen, but she heard the shower running behind the closed bathroom door. There were abandoned, open books and scattered papers on his desk, and a candle that was at its wick's end. Dirty plates and half-empty glasses decorated the feet of the desk, and his bed covers hung off the bed.

She sighed, pulling the cord by one of his bedposts to summon an elf. Ginny breathed a sigh of relief when it wasn't Dobby or Winky who came, and she told the creature to clear the dirty dishes from the room. She set to work making his bed non-magically, needing to keep herself occupied as she waited for Draco to come out the bathroom. She barely registered the house-elf's pop when it left, smoothing the wrinkles out the spread.

Ginny sat on the freshly made bed, bringing Draco's pillow to her nose and inhaling deeply. She loved his wintergreen scent, a calming aroma that she'd missed these past few weeks. Ginny closed her eyes, laying her cheek against the pillow as she hugged it tightly to her, hoping the wintergreen would immerse itself in her so she could have it when she left the room. . . when he left Hogwarts for good.

A shaft of light illuminated her as the bathroom door opened, yet she didn't change her posture. The bed sank as he sat upon it, and his hand smoothed down her hair. They stayed that way, neither speaking, just taking comfort in each other's presence.

After awhile he kissed her temple, nuzzling his nose against it. "Thank you, love."

She leaned into his caress and sighed. "How was your shower?"

He kissed her head again and chuckled a bit. "Lonely . . ."

A small smile appeared on her face and she looked at him, her bottom lip going between her teeth as she smoothed hair from his forehead. His skin was still damp and a little warm, and her brows furrowed. "How are you feeling?"

He exhaled slowly and stood, holding the ends of his towel at his waist as he went to his dresser. He rifled through the drawers, his back muscles tenser than necessary for such an action. She put the pillow on her lap and crossed her arms, glaring slightly at him.

"Draco—"

"I'm fine, Ginger," he interrupted, pulling out dark-green silk boxer shorts. He let the towel fall and Ginny blushed, averting her gaze as he dressed. Though they'd been intimate, she was still shy about blatant nudity between them.

"Draco," she tried again, fascinated by the drawer handle of his nightstand. "You are most certainly _not_ fine! I came in here and this place was a mess! You hate messes!"

"Lot on my mind, love. Trying to do well on my N.E.W.T.s so I can leave this bloody school!"

Ginny focused on her breathing . . .in. . . out. . . in. . . out. . . he'd be out of Hogwarts in two weeks' time. He'd be vulnerable to all sorts of attacks, plots, dangers.

He'd be away from her, while _she_ remained in said "bloody school".

"Would it really be so bad if you failed?" she asked in a small voice, frowning at the same snake-shaped silver handle.

Soft, Quidditch-roughened fingers touched her chin lightly, directing her head to their owner. Luminous gray eyes bored into hers, and she remained captivated even as he lowered himself on his knees before her.

"I'm not going to leave you, Ginger; just the school," he said in reassuring tones.

Ginny glanced at the handle, seeing the snake's tongue stick out briefly. "You cannot make that guarantee, Draco."

He squeezed her chin, and she looked back at him, his eyes harder than previously. "I can, and I will. You will not be rid of me so easily."

Ginny licked her lips and nodded, moving her eyes to his torso. He was certainly not as slim as he had been before; his body's definition outlined through the simple white T-shirt he wore. Though he would never be as broad as Ron, Draco's build still could intimidate. . . could still comfort her with its solidness and strength.

She peered at him, well aware of the tears in her eyes. "Don't leave me, Draco . . ."

Draco cupped her face, and the tears fell, greeting his thumbs as he wiped them away. He pressed his lips to her forehead, and she sobbed, burrowing her face in his chest. Ginny didn't think she could be as scared as she was that very moment. Draco was in even more danger now than before; surely Crabbe told the Dark Lord Draco wasn't as "dead" as he appeared during the battle all those months ago. Right now, the Dark Side held all the cards. . . all their lives in his hands. And though Ginny knew Draco was a very capable wizard and reincarnate, there were, in fact, no guarantees.

He pulled away from her briefly, sitting back on the bed then pulling her into his lap. She snuggled into him, her arms going around his neck and her ear resting against the space above his beating heart.

"Do you trust me, Ginny?" he whispered, his lips brushing against her hairline as he spoke.

Her fingers caressed the hairs at his nape and she nodded. "Completely."

"Then trust I will not leave you. I know you're afraid, but I will not be alone. I'll have the Order with me. . . _Potter_ even . . ."

Ginny laughed a little, then sobered quickly. "But _I_ won't be with you."

He leaned back, catching her eyes with his, and grinned a little. "You will. We've got the Link, remember?"

She nodded again, then kissed his lips softly. "I love you."

His lips met hers, applying brief pressure. "I love you too. . . Birthday Girl . . ."

Ginny rolled her eyes, glancing at the Grandfather clock in the corner. "Draco, it's only a quarter past eleven!"

"I'm early. So what? In forty-five minutes you'll be seventeen. . . and able to Apparate . . ." He waggled his eyebrows exaggeratedly and Ginny giggled, pinching his sides.

"I could probably Apparate now, love."

"True . . . but what fun will we have Apparating in and out of Hogsmeade for rendezvous!"

Ginny laughed again, kissing his lips. "I bet you won't be this happy when Nia turns sixteen and seventeen—"

"I won't allow it," Draco said quickly, sincerely.

Ginny laughed again. "You can't be serious!"

"Very, love."

Draco was so like her brothers it was ridiculous, but she kept that tidbit to herself. She didn't want to get into an argument with him. . . forty minutes before her birthday. In fact, she wanted to cuddle, so she did just that, wrapped her arms around him tightly so they could be with each other. There was nothing sexual in the embrace, nor was there the desire to make it so. She relished these moments with Draco, quiet moments without her brother or Harry or anyone else watching them like hawks to make sure they did, in fact, love each other and Draco hadn't brainwashed her and other such nonsense.

"Have I said how much I love you?" Ginny asked once she felt him kiss the top of her head.

"Once or twice, but I will admit I love the reminders."

"Good. . . expect them often."

They spent the rest of the night talking in soft tones and light touches, she falling asleep to Draco's dulcet tones as he spoke of nothing in particular. The morning came and she was reluctant to greet it, regardless if it was the anniversary of her birth. Draco felt so good in her arms, so comfortable, that Ginny would've been perfectly content to spend the day in them. But apparently her boyfriend had other plans, which began with a large breakfast in bed.

"I made it myself," he said proudly, looking at her with high expectations. Ginny's smile was pinched as she looked at the burnt toast and the ice-cold congealed porridge.

"Ah . . ."

"You're not hungry?"

"Watching my weight."

He frowned and put his hands on his hips. "Ginny you're _perfect_! There's no weight to watch!"

"You're making it awfully hard to be diplomatic, love."

Draco frowned again, then began to laugh. Ginny bit her lip, not knowing how to react to Draco's bizarre behavior, when suddenly the food transformed into beautiful, fluffy pancakes complete with peach topping and whipped cream, and a pitcher of warmed syrup to the side. Ginny glared at Draco, throwing a napkin in his direction.

"Prat!"

He blew her a kiss and joined her on the bed, accepting the forkfuls of food she fed him, pleased to see her so happy on her birthday. After they finished the meal, they shared a shower together (and a little more) before leaving his room to enjoy the pleasantly warm Saturday afternoon. They strolled around the lake, hand in hand, enjoying a rare, peaceful day, cherishing it, for they both knew these times would become rare in the near future. It was during this walk they spotted Harry, who was alone and looking pretty pathetic as he threw rocks into the lake, causing the Giant Squid to raise a tentacle in protest. Ginny sped up her walk to go to him, but Draco grasped her hand harder.

"Something's wrong—"

"And it has nothing to do with us," Draco finished, drawing her to his side. Ginny remained unconvinced. It was Nia's birthday, too; shouldn't Harry be with her at least? Where _was_ Nia?

"I think something's wrong, Draco! Have you seen Nia all day?"

Draco frowned but didn't stop his stride. It wasn't until they were a few meters away that Ginny realized they were walking towards Harry. The dark-haired boy didn't look up as they approached, far too focused on making his rocks skip across the lake—quite unsuccessfully. Ginny kneeled beside Harry, concerned.

"What's up, Harry?"

He didn't respond; didn't even look at her as he continued to skip the rocks. Draco groaned and made the rest of the rocks disappear, earning a nasty glare from Harry. Draco shrugged, putting his hands in his trouser pockets while Ginny sat next to her housemate, wrapping an arm around his shoulders.

"Where's Nia?"

Harry's jaw tightened and Ginny squeezed his shoulder. "She's _somewhere_, and I have no idea where. I haven't seen her since yesterday, and neither have Jamilah or Sirius. I've tried to Link with her, but she's refusing me, and the stairs won't go to The Room. I know it's her birthday and all, but her absence really has me worried."

"So now you're by the lake to sulk, is that it?" Draco said, worry and annoyance lacing his tone.

"Do you feel she's in danger?"

Harry shook his head. "It's been a difficult year for all of us, but particularly for her, I just want her to know I'm there."

"But not really, because you are _here_."

"Oh _shut up,_ Malfoy!"

Ginny glared at her boyfriend, wondering why he was being more of a prat than usual. "Do _you_ know where Nia is?"

"No, but I am unconcerned because I don't feel her distress. Perhaps she's with Dumbledore."

A very likely circumstance, and Ginny could feel the tension leave Harry's shoulders. "Then why wouldn't she just tell me that, then?"

"You two don't live in the same House, Potter."

"She could've owled."

"Oh stop playing the pacing father! She's only 3 years younger than you are, not thirty!"

Draco stopped, and Ginny's own apprehension lessened. She stood and went to the blond boy, linking her fingers through his. _Wherever_ Nia was, Ginny had faith in her abilities to keep herself safe.

"We're going to go back to the castle now, okay? Want to join us?" Ginny asked, squeezing Draco's hand at his surprised grunt.

"No, I'll sit here for a few more. If I go back to Gryffindor Hermione'll corner me into studying N.E.W.T.s."

"Too bad Ron can't get away from that!" Ginny laughed, and even Harry cracked a smile.

"The Weasel signed his own death warrant when he married the Mu—I mean, Granger . . ."

Ginny gave Draco a pointed look that said "nice catch", but let him slide. It took time to unlearn things, after all. Draco grinned and pulled her closer to him, pressing a firm kiss on her forehead. Ginny completely forgave him after that.

"I'll see you, Harry," Ginny said after her body came back down from the sky. Draco smirked and nodded his goodbye, and the pair walked up the knoll to the castle. Once they reached the Entrance Hall, Ginny led them to the Great Hall, not wanting to go to Gryffindor nor to Slytherin, needing a neutral space for some reason. Draco frowned but followed, having no real reason to go anywhere himself. Upon entering the Great Hall, however, Ginny realized why her instincts told her to go there—

Nia was sitting at the Slytherin table, looking shell-shocked at the letter she held in her hands. Ginny and Draco glanced at each other before quickening their pace towards the younger girl.

"Nia?" Ginny called sitting in front of her. Draco sat beside Ginny, clasping his hands on the table.

Nia didn't answer, transfixed by the parchment in her hand. Draco reached for it slowly, giving Nia every opportunity to stop his progress, but Nia remained still. Draco placed the parchment between him and Ginny and they began to read it.

_Dear Little One,_

_If all has happened as it should, this means Severus is no longer with you. Oh, Dear Heart, how I hate for you to be there without us, but it is necessary in the grand scheme of things. I know you cannot see this now, but perhaps when you are older you will understand. . . Oh Nia, honey, I write this letter to warn you—do not do anything rash. Do _not_ go and try to fight Voldemort or Set. That will be the _worst_ thing you could do, and will alert them to who you are. Everything happens for a reason, and while you are much stronger than you were the last time you received a letter from me, you are still not ready. It will take more than fighting skills and magical prowess to defeat the enemy, and unfortunately, you do not have that elusive quality yet. However, you are well on your way. Believe me when I say that._

_However, your progress. . . it astounds even me. I know now that because of you, we _will_ finally defeat Set! Between Grandpa Albus, Mama, your friends, the Order. . . I have every confidence you will succeed where the others have failed. This is why I urge you again, _please_ do not do anything rash. Severus is fine; he will be fine, I promise you. If he could, he would still be there with you, guiding you, but as it often goes, the ones with the most on their shoulders usually do it alone. Nia, love, take heart; you will _not_ be alone. We will always be with you, and we love you._

_Speaking of love. . . it seems mine and Lily's dreams are coming into fruition. Harry Potter is a wonderful young man who loves you dearly. Please do not shut him out. Do not shut out your other friends, either. They love you so much, and while they cannot replace the love I or Severus can give you, they love you all the same, and when you get right down to it, love is all you need, Little One. This also applies to Angelina and Elle and Caleb. . . they are your family—your sister, cousin, and father in the most technical of terms. Allow them to be there for you. They love you dearly, NiNi, you loving them will not be seen as traitorous, darling. One can never have too much love._

_My dear, precious Little One—not so little anymore now, fifteen years old and so very beautiful. I am so, _so_ proud of you, and humbled by all you do. I know Aset would be proud as well. You carry such a heavy burden, but you shoulder the weight magnificently. I love you so,_ so_ very much, and I pray your life will be full of love and happiness._

_Happy Birthday, my beautiful little girl._

_With much love,  
Mommy_

Ginny felt Draco's finger touch her cheek, and he wiped away a tear she hadn't known she shed.

"How did you get that?" Draco asked softly.

"Grandma gave it to me. . . this mornin'. Said she's had it for years . . ."

_Her mother wrote the letter as if she'd seen everything that's happened so far!_ Ginny said through the link.

Draco nodded and slid the parchment back to Nia. How heavy of a letter was _that_ to receive on one's birthday?! And Draco was right; that letter didn't seem like it was written years ago, it seemed it was written _yesterday!_

"She's tellin' me not to fight. . . not to avenge my father's death. How can she _ask_ me such a thing?!"

But it was the same thing the gods had said when Snape first died, and Ginny couldn't just ignore the warning any longer. Things had to be done exactly right or they could lose their chance to win the war.

"As much as you probably don't want to hear this," Draco began delicately, "I think I agree with what your mother had to say—"

"I will _not_ sit idly by—"

"There are other uses for you outside of the battlefield, love, but trust me, the last thing we want to happen is to see you fall."

"But what about you? Harry? Everyone else? It's bad enough you're leavin' me in a few weeks! And Ginny leaves next year. . . I'll _truly_ be alone then!"

So Nia felt the weight of change as well, that invisible pressure that became more oppressive as the weeks passed. Ginny had nothing on Nia, she only had a year without them, and she still had Nia with whom to commiserate. Nia could possibly have no one, either because people had all left or they had become causalties of the war. Ginny linked her arm with Draco's, needing some of his strength and guidance at her revelations.

Draco's face, however, was unyielding, a frown furrowing his features as he looked at Nia.

"You will never be alone, Nia, do you hear me? You can't; it's impossible."

Nia sucked her teeth and rolled her eyes. "Wasn't I alone before you came in here?"

"That's not what I mean. I don't know how your mother was able to write that letter years ago, but I will say, when one dies, there is a reflection pool where they can see everything that happens in the land of the living, at the very least where _I_ went upon my death . . ." Ginny gripped Draco's arm harder, not wanting to be reminded of that dark time. "I'll bet Snape is there now, watching you, guiding you in ways you could never know, and so is your mother. . . and Potter's parents. You will not be alone, Little One. Though you cannot communicate with them in the manner you like, just know they've not left you and will not leave you."

Ginny almost felt Draco's speech was as much for her as it was for Nia, and she rested her head on his shoulder. She and Nia would be fine; they had to be.

The Great Hall's doors opened and Harry entered, his eyes immediately drawn to Nia. The younger girl glanced at him, then at the parchment, and frowned even more. Ginny knew what was going through Nia's mind even without having to Link to it. It was easy for Draco to say that, he being in the thick of the action, but as someone who had to watch her lover _die_ and not able to do anything about it was a hard thing to experience. Draco, her mother, Snape, the gods—they were asking Nia to potentially watch them die and do nothing. She'd already done it twice—with Draco and Snape—but Harry. . . Harry may be the person who'll make her break rank and go on the battlefield. Merlin help them if something were to happen to Harry Potter.

The bespectacled boy sat down slowly next to her, clasping his hands on the table. Neither looked at the other, and Ginny was sure they were Linked. Suddenly Harry's hand slid across the table to hold hers, and a single tear fell from Nia's cheek. Harry used his other hand to catch the tear, and Nia hugged him tightly.

"Let's go, love," Draco whispered in her hair before kissing the top of her head. Ginny nodded, and allowed Draco to lead her out of the Hall and into the main corridor. Neither teen spoke as they went back to the dungeons, both full of thought. Ginny felt a big change was going to happen, and soon, and the Happy Birthday she was supposed to have had the shadow of doom right on its heels.

"You feel it, too, don't you?" Draco said after they'd got to his room. Ginny nodded and he came behind her, kneading the tension from her shoulders. "The final battle is certainly near."

"And we are not ready."

Draco kissed the back of her head and went to sit on his bed. Ginny remained standing, hands on her hips and brows furrowed. They would need everyone at their disposal to win this battle, but one of the most important people in the fight was sidelined because of age and. . . "inexperience." Ginny didn't fancy dragging this out over a long period of time, but it seemed Fate had another opinion.

"Why couldn't Nia be _our_ age?" Ginny snapped.

Draco arched an eyebrow at her, and she couldn't tell if he were amused or incredulous. "What does that matter? She can help us without being on the field. She _does_ have the Link, after all—"

"Yes, but—"

"And perhaps it's not time for her, yet. Something tells me this is not her battle, anyway."

"What?"

"I don't know. I just have a feeling."

Ginny sighed and sat next to Draco. A feeling. A hunch. That's all they really had to go on now, especially since Snape was no longer with them. Events had been leading up to this fight for years, but now that they were on the eve of it, Ginny felt suddenly unprepared, even lacking.

"We'll get through this, love, I promise," Draco said, hugging Ginny's shoulders.

"We better," Ginny said, snuggling into him. "I have great plans for us."

"Really. Like what?"

Ginny smiled when she felt him kiss her forehead, and she got even closer to him. "Well, we have to do like Ron and Hermione and get married—"

"No we don't. It's not absolutely necessary to have the entire Weasel clan at our nuptials."

Ginny pinched his side and giggled at his indignant yelp. "And then we get a place of our own. . . maybe in London or possibly the country, where we'll raise our own Quidditch team—"

"We Malfoys are only children. There will _be_ no 'Quidditch team'—"

"But trying to start one will be so much _fun_, don't you think?"

Suddenly she was on her back, and Draco loomed above her. There was a glint in his eyes that made delicious pressure surge through her body. Ginny quirked an eyebrow before bringing his lips to hers, sighing into the kiss. Draco moaned, drawing her closer to him.

"So you want to start _now_?" he said when they pulled apart.

"I guess that wouldn't be fair," Ginny said with a small pout. "If I _were_ to get pregnant, they'd have to spend an entire year with only you. I could _never_ subject my child to such torment."

Draco blinked at her owlishly before tickling her with gusto. The pair thrashed around on the bed, the heaviness of the day temporarily forgotten. _This_ was why they needed to win, so the only thing they had to worry about was too much tickling, or waking up too early from one's lover. And that Quidditch team Ginny wanted, they shouldn't have to worry about a Set or a Thanatos or any other force of evil. Her children would have the world she didn't, a world full of peace and prosperity and more happiness than they could shake a stick at, dammit.

Draco and Ginny's tickling settled into another snogfest, and Ginny wrapped her arms and legs around him.

"I'm never gonna let you go," she whispered against his mouth.

Draco's gray eyes were full of mirth and contentment. "Is that a promise?"

"Aye. I'll not rest until I get my Quidditch team."

Draco grinned, his hands sliding up her blouse onto the bare skin of her lower back. "Great minds think alike, don't they, love?"

"Mmm . . ." Ginny agreed with another kiss. At that moment, Ginny wasn't worried anymore. She had full confidence in their ability to win against the enemy. She may not know how or when, but Ginny knew they would succeed.

She had a Quidditch team to start, after all.

So Ginny ran the backs of her fingers along Draco's strong cheek even as she placed another kiss on his lips. The first kiss of thousands more. "Indeed they do."


	19. Nineteen

A/N: Because formatting doesn't necessarily translate here, the single quotes with italicized font (ex: '_Speech_')is Linked speech.

Also, this is unbetaed. Please forgive errors.

* * *

_**Nineteen**_

"Are you sure?"

"As sure as I'm sittin' here–"

"We have to do something–"

"The only thing we can do, Draco, is sit and wait–"

"We can tell Dumbledore–"

"You know he already knows, Ginger; he knows _everything_–"

"But the students don't, and I think they should know . . . you know, to be prepared . . ."

Harry rubbed his eyes under his glasses as his voice trailed off, the surge of energy and magic palpable through his veins. They were in the secret room in the dungeons, Harry and Ginny receiving a Link call from Draco to meet them down there. School was to end in four days, and Harry had hoped against hope Voldemort and Set wouldn't try anything in the interim. Of course, those two lived to make his life a living hell, so he wasn't nearly as surprised as he wanted to be upon hearing this latest development. He was primed for action, but Nia was right; the only thing they _could_ do was sit and wait. Changing anything, at least outwardly, would tip off people, and who knew if there was another plant in Hogwarts as Crabbe had been. These were dangerous times, and one slight misstep could mean defeat for the Light Side.

The other three students were just as grave, though Nia's expression was more blank than anything. That didn't stop Harry from grabbing her hand and giving it a squeeze, more to reassure himself she was safe and right next to her because frankly, after this battle there was no telling what would happen. However, there was a bright side to this—both Nia and Ginny believe this would be a significant battle—possibly the one to end the war—but of course, the ending could go one of three ways: Voldemort died, he died, or they _both_ died—and that didn't include all the casualties that could be sustained by others.

At least Harry knew Nia would be safe; she couldn't fight—her mother had said so in a letter—and Harry knew Draco wouldn't let her anywhere _near_ the action, let alone Jamilah. Jamilah's eyes had been on her granddaughter like a hawk the past few weeks, and though Nia was a powerful witch/reincarnate, Jamilah had decades of experience at her disposal.

Yet still, Harry tightened his hand around Nia's even more.

"If the students know, the entire school will go up in panic, and chaos will ensue. I don't think that's a bright idea–"

"They shouldn't be caught off guard–"

"If you tell Dumbledore, he'll work that out. In fact, I'm sure he's working on something to make Hogwarts impenetrable."

Harry gave Ginny an odd look. "How do you know this?"

Ginny smirked at him, and Harry couldn't help but think it was eerily like Draco's. "Who do you think helps Nia and me decipher the stars? We're not as versed as Nephthys and Isis, that's for sure, and the Astronomy classes here barely get us by . . ."

"We should get out before then, no?" Draco asked Ginny, though looking to the others for confirmation.

"That would probably be wise," Nia said. "We won't be able to get out–"

"You're staying in the castle," Harry said with finality. It was Nia's turn to squeeze his hand, and the action wasn't nearly so pleasant and self-assuring. "Nia–"

"Harry's right, love," Draco said with a little more sympathy. "They still don't know who you are. You can't be seen–"

"And _I _just can't sit here while you put yourselves in danger!" Nia said lowly. "I thought we've been through this foolishness—I don't care _what_ my mother's letter said, I'm going to help in any way I can–"

"Then _help us_ by staying safe, love. I _need_ to know you're safe," Harry said earnestly as he kissed her temple. Nia's iron grip on his hand lessened, but Harry could still feel her distress. Harry couldn't really blame her; she'd gone through all this training, the gods had done so much to destroy her family, that she had _plenty_ of reason to go out and fight with them. But Malika had said the time was not right; and Harry would risk Nia's annoyance if it meant getting Voldemort and Set right where it hurt.

Ginny smiled at Nia as she leaned against Draco. His hand automatically tangled in his girlfriend's fiery red strands and the young woman sighed contentedly before speaking. "You're odd."

Nia quirked an eyebrow. "I'm odd?"

"Yes. Not many Slytherins would want to go out and fight like a Gryffindor."

"My mother was a Gryffindor. My mother is dead because of them. My _father_ is dead because of them. If anything, I want them to pay . . . surely _that's_ not a Gryffindor trait . . ."

"We're very possessive, love," Draco said, kissing the top of Ginny's head. Ginny glanced at Harry and she smirked.

"You know how to pick 'em, don't you Harry?"

Harry cleared his throat, rubbing his thumb on the back of Nia's hand. "I think we chose each other."

Draco scowled and stood. "Before this gets too sappy for me to stomach, I think Ginny and I have rounds, don't we?"

"The kind that _don't_ include the bedroom?" Nia said sweetly.

"Bint."

"Prat."

"The love in this room is overwhelming . . . really . . ." Ginny said dryly as she tugged her boyfriend out of the room. "We'll keep each other posted."

Harry watched the door shut and his hand moved from Nia's hand to her shoulder. His arm brought her closer to him. To his delight, she leaned against him, sighing heavily as he pressed a small kiss to her temple.

"Nia?"

"Yes?"

He really didn't have anything to say . . . just wanted to hear her voice. She hadn't been saying much of anything these last few weeks, and only now was she starting to become her old self. He kissed her temple again and brought her closer.

"Did you want somethin'?" she asked, her arm going around his middle.

"Yes, actually," he said, his mouth brushing against her skin as he spoke. "I want you to be safe and to live for a very long time."

Nia sat up and cradled his cheek. "I want that for you, too. I don't want anyone to die except for Voldemort and Set."

Harry grinned, rubbing his nose against hers before kissing her lips lightly. "I love you."

"I love you."

This kiss was more intense than the last one, and both of Nia's arms went around Harry's waist. In order to make it more comfortable for them, Harry pushed Nia to her back and unwittingly settled between her legs. It wasn't until she shifted he realized their precarious position and blushed, clearing his throat and separating from him.

"We can't," he whispered.

"We can't what? Kiss? We're doing a pretty good job of it, don't you think?" To prove her point, Nia kissed him again, her eyes locking with his. There was a naughty spark in them that had Harry's body reacting inappropriately. Gently he pushed her back down on the couch even as he sat up straighter. She truly was beautiful . . . a goddess, and too damn young for him to do anything about it.

"I wish this was three years from now."

"Three years from now? Why?"

Harry blushed and cleared his throat. "Because you'll be coming out of school in three years time . . . and we can be together more often."

Nia smiled, taking his hand and kissing the back of it. "I'd like that, too. I'm sorry I'm so young–"

"Shh, love, don't apologize. You're perfect," Harry said, this time kissing her lips quickly. "I can wait."

Nia grinned and kissed him again, and the kiss grew to something far more passionate than either anticipated. It wasn't until they felt the voice of Ginny in his head did Harry snap out of their passionate haze.

_'Harry! We've got trouble!'_

It was exactly the thing Harry _didn't_ want to hear, and he broke off the kiss abruptly. He tried not to make eye contact with Nia, but between his hasty separation and just the general fact they were _linked_ to each other, Nia had an inkling of what was happening.

"Stay–"

"If you think I'm stayin', Potter, you have another thought comin'!"

Harry clenched his jaw. There was no time to argue, and if she didn't come with him, she'd just come _without_ him, which was by _far_ a worse option. He offered his hand to her which she took and they went quickly out of the room, following Ginny's Linked directions to find the other couple. Draco glared at Nia but said nothing directly, instead launching into speech.

"Ginny says she Sees them just at the edge of the Forbidden Forest–"

"And by 'them' you mean–"

"Death Eaters . . . Voldemort . . . Set. The time is _now!_ They're attacking tonight!" Ginny whispered, looking down the knoll to the Forest then back at Hogwarts.

"Have you talked to Dumbledore . . . Jamilah . . . Sirius?" Harry asked quickly.

"Gin Linked to Jamilah, and I'm assuming the school's making proper precautions. Hopefully, the Order and other Aurors get here quickly. The Death Eaters are out on a mission!" Draco said.

Nia's hand clutched Harry's tightly and he could almost feel the rapid beat of her heart from her hand. Harry looked at her with hard green eyes. "You need to leave–"

"I'm not going _anywhere_," Nia said emphatically. "Give me a job out of sight or something because I'm not going back in that castle–"

"There you are mate!"

The four of them turned to see Ron and Hermione running out of the castle along with other members of Dumbledore's Army, their wands at the ready. Before Harry could ask the question, Hermione supplied the answer.

"We got out before the lockdown completed, though I think Dumbledore knew we'd come out here anyway . . ."

"What about everyone else? Where are they?" Draco asked.

"On their way to the Great Hall. Only place big enough to fit the students and capable of the strongest wards."

"That's where you need to be, Nia–"

"Oh put a sock in it, Draco! I'm out here now! And we better come up with a plan because I can feel them coming closer!"

Harry could feel it too, only it wasn't humans he could feel . . . the air around them suddenly became chilly—far too chilly for June—and dread settled in the pit of his stomach. "Oh no–!"

Suddenly two Dementors rose from the hill, flying high in the sky above them. Wasting no time, the students quickly shouted the Patronus charm, quickly doing away with the Dementors, but Harry and the others knew it would only be a matter of time before reinforcements came.

"Ginny, Hermione, and Ron, you go to the opposite side of the castle just to make sure it's not a double front. Draco, come with me. We'll meet these bastards head on–"

"And just what am _I_ gonna do?" Nia hissed.

Harry kissed her quickly on the lips. "Stay safe and out of sight."

_'You stay safe, too.'_ Nia said via Link and went with Ginny, Hermione, and Ron to the other side of the Castle.

"The rest of you," Harry began as he and Draco started down the hill, "you stay here. Be ready."

"Dumbledore and other reinforcements should be here shortly, anyway," Draco said flatly, not turning around to the other students. The pair didn't wait to listen for any confirmation their directives were heard—both focused solely on the Dark Army in front of them. Harry's eyes searched frantically for either Voldemort or Set, but he couldn't find either. Part of Harry thought Pettigrew was in his rat form again . . . but not even a small animal will escape his wrath. This war will end tonight, hopefully with Voldemort and Set dead at the end of it.

"Is this such a bright idea?" Draco asked, warily staring at the too still Dark Army. Dementors flew above the mass of people but did nothing, and Draco and Harry stopped a healthy distance away from the enemy. No hex or curse could travel so far as to reach them, but they were close enough that a few paces' run could get either group within striking distance.

"We are not afraid, Malfoy," Harry said, still searching the Death Eaters for either leader. Suddenly one stepped out in the crowd, and it was all Harry could do not to reel back. He knew without the other's face shown it was Bellatrix Black, "murderer" of Sirius Black, the third person in line on Harry's all-time "hate list". To add insult to injury, the vile woman pulled off her mask and smirked at them, her eyes narrowing as they drifted over her nephew.

"Traitors are especially treated with the utmost torture, my dear nephew. You should ask your precious Severus about that . . . _oh_, that's _right_, you can't!"

The others' murmured sinister laughter and Harry felt the sound crawl up his skin like spiders.

"I wouldn't worry about me, Aunty," Draco said with a slight smirk. "I'd be concerned with the fact I chose the wrong side."

Bellatrix's mirth disappeared as quickly as it came. "You little ingrate! You're a disgrace to the Black name! _I_ am not the one who chose the wrong side—you are!"

Draco rolled his eyes and yawned, patting his hand over his mouth for good measure. "Is that all you can do? Hurl insults? Come, Aunty, show me how you put the Longbottoms in St. Mungo's for all these years–"

The curse came so quickly both were almost unable to avoid it. During their banter, Bellatrix had gotten within striking range, and if it weren't for their continuous and rigorous training, both Malfoy and Harry would've been writhing in pain from _Crucio_.

"Charge!" Bellatrix yelled, her wand in the air to reinforce the command. The Death Eaters roared and began to move, much too rapidly for Harry's taste, toward the Castle. The Dementors totally ignored Draco and Harry and went straight for the Castle as well. Harry didn't have much time to worry about the consequences of the move before a hex singed his robes' sleeve.

_'This was _not_ the brightest of ideas, Potter!'_ Draco hurled curse after hex after curse with alarming speed, the Death Eaters clearly surprised by his prowess.

And it wasn't the best idea, but they were certainly holding their own. Many of the Death Eaters bypassed them totally for the Castle, and Harry hoped this was a one-sided attack, or that Dumbledore managed to set up a defense for Hogwarts, or the Castle and all inside would be at risk. Harry was looking for Bellatrix, wanting personally to end her miserable life when a purple flash singed his sleeve, far too close for comfort.. This one-armed fighting was going to get them hexed or worse fast.

_My hands_, Harry thought, and used his left hand to send out a beam of green while his right used his wand to send out another curse. Their opponents froze briefly, clearly unprepared for the double attack, but Harry didn't wait to applaud his ingenuity, instead using their distraction to his benefit. Four more Death Eaters were now without weapons and Draco hastily bound and immobilized them by magic.

"Where's our backup!" Draco yelled as he ducked a particularly nasty hex. Suddenly there was a bright burst of scarlet from above and ten Death Eaters were suddenly flying through the air. The ground rumbled from the force of the attack, and a fierce gust of wind hit them. Both Draco and Harry dropped for cover as another burst of scarlet hit the ground slightly closer. There was a loud cry that forced both to cover their ears.

"What the hell–"

_'Get up and fight, you two! The castle's almost breeched! Dumbledore didn't have time to ward it all!'_

It was then Harry looked up to see a rather large griffon vulture, and by its pointed gaze, he knew it to be Ginny.

Draco stood and smirked. "Can we at least hitch a ride, love? Aerial attacks are so much more effective . . ."

Harry knew if the vulture could roll its eyes, it would, but when the large wing dropped down to them, he knew she granted Draco's request.

_'Are the Order and Aurors there?'_ Harry asked.

_'Yes, but they're fading fast. The Dementors are relentless, and Voldemort _or_ Pettigrew have yet to make appearances . . . but I know they're there . . .'_

Harry groaned even as he scanned the grounds. The scene below would've been pretty if it wasn't the result of hexes being thrown because of a war. Body after body fell, and Harry was slightly relieved he didn't recognize any of the fallen, but he knew that was only a matter of time.

Thunder rolled above them and dark clouds crashed together producing a damning streak of lightning that surged straight to the ground. The explosion blinded Harry briefly, but the horrific yells and screams below let him know people had been hit.

He could only hope they were wearing Death Eater masks.

_'There's Dumbledore!'_

Harry peered over the vulture's head and saw the usually benign headmaster standing in front of the main entrance, looking very deadly as his robes wiped about him and his eyes narrowed at the scene before him. One hand was outstretched and a purple ball of light began to form.

"I'd hate to be down there right now," Draco muttered, and when Dumbledore released the blue ball, it went straight into the crowed, more bloodcurdling yells sounding before a black cloud of smoke rose high in the sky. The Dementors were all gone and there were many black-robed bodies motionless on the ground. It seemed the side of Light was holding their own against the Death Eaters . . . and for some reason, that fact didn't sit too well with Harry. He looked over to Draco, who had his own frown on his face as he surveyed the scene below.

_'This is going too well.'_

Harry nodded at Draco's assessment. _'Ginny, could you land us somewhere away from the fighting. We need to regroup.'_

Ginny did as told, landing them on the opposite side of the castle near the pitch, where she turned back into her human form.

"I haven't seen Voldemort or Set the entire battle," she said. "Hermione, Ron, and the other students fought off the Dementors—or as many as they could—but they are all back inside the castle because Dumbledore told them to go there . . . said they would need fighters on the inside just in case there was a breach."

"And you didn't go inside?" Draco asked.

"He didn't tell me to go inside. He told me to find you two."

"And Nia?"

Ginny shrugged. "I assume she went inside with the others, particularly because Dumbledore was right there."

"Have you tried to Link?"

"Nope, too busy finding you."

Harry ran a hand through his messy hair, the sounds of the battle making his adrenaline kick in even more. Too many things to worry about and not enough time to resolve them. He had no choice but to assume Nia was in the castle as well; she wasn't so bold to defy Dumbledore openly —no matter how anxious she was to fight.

"Let's go–"

"And do what, Potter?" Draco asked, not with irritation but with real curiosity. "It will not do well to have Gryffindor rashness at a time like this!"

"I'd resent that if it wasn't true," Ginny muttered.

Harry stared out towards the Quidditch Pitch deep in thought. He honestly didn't have a plan, but he knew they couldn't just stay here away from the battle. They needed to find Voldemort and Set quickly.

"Let's go." Harry said again, this time with a plan in mind. He began walking towards the battle, assured the other two would follow.

"It's the blind leading the blind," Draco muttered.

_'We use wandless magic.'_ Harry said through the Link. _'I think that'll draw them out–"_

_'And then we do what, Potter? Wait for them to kill us?'_

_'No. Then we transform . . .'_

What good was being Animagi and training for it if they didn't use it in battle? Ginny's vulture was more than helpful, and between Draco's and his two animals, Harry was sure they could catch Voldemort off guard.

_'Which one–"_

_'Crocodile'_ Harry answered to Draco's unfinished question. _'Big teeth, thick skin and speed. All things you'll need when we go in there.'_

_'I should stay the vulture?'_

_'Yes, Ginny. Aerial attacks will be great.'_ He started walking then stopped, but didn't turn around to face them. _'And leave Voldemort to me.'_

No one argued with him and Harry was secretly glad. None of them knew of the prophecy, and it was just as well they didn't. Explaining things he couldn't understand himself never did much to clear things up anyway. The three picked up speed the closer they reached the battle, and were not even three meters away before a curse was sent towards them. They easily deflected them before separating in different directions, all of them looking for either Set or Voldemort. Suddenly Harry heard a cry, and felt a strong gust of wind push against him. Above was Ginny, her scarlet eyes sending beam after beam into the battle. The thunder rolled again, the skies pitch black though it was afternoon.

Harry spotted Draco a few meters ahead to his left, his wand hurling curse after curse as his other hand glowed silver. He released the burst of magic, but instead of the usual explosion, a puff of smoke rose, then a purple-green burst of energy barreled towards Draco. Harry acted fast, sending his own magic beam towards it to neutralize the attack. Draco's eyes were wide and his mouth slack, and as soon as Harry turned towards the object of Draco's attention, he couldn't help but take a cautious step back either.

Voldemort, in all of his dark glory, was much taller than everyone else, and the entire battle seemed to come to a standstill. His red eyes glared down at Harry and Draco, and he grinned, pointing a finger towards them and shooting out more magic. Both dove to the ground, feeling the heat singed their clothes as the curse barely missed them. Harry rolled quickly into a standing position, hurling a useless curse to the very powerful wizard.

_'What the hell?'_

_'I have no idea, Draco.'_ Harry said, running backwards warily to keep Voldemort in his sights. Harry wasn't prepared for this . . . at least expecting the other wizard to be as tall as a regular man; but even Hagrid only came to Voldemort's shoulder now . . .

_Perhaps we should've transformed earlier!_ Harry thought with dread.

There was a scarlet beam of magic that hit Voldemort, but he merely laughed, pointing his fingers toward the source of the magic.

_'Gin!__ Look out!'_

Ginny caught the warning quickly, flying quickly out of the path of the curse and going on the opposite side of the castle. However, a blue light hit Voldemort that caused a yell of pain. Never had been Harry been so relieved to see Dumbledore than right then.

Voldemort chuckled and it made Harry's skin crawl. "You cannot defeat me old man!" He shot another burst of energy towards Dumbledore that he deflected.

"I know I can't. But I can help the one who can." Another blue light shot from Dumbledore's fists and hit Voldemort's kneecap, causing the dark giant to yelp and fall to his injured knee. Suddenly curses were being thrown every which way, and Voldemort's attention was solely on an occupied Dumbledore.

Harry knew he had to do something.

Closing his eyes, Harry concentrated on changing. He felt his head expand and tiny little hairs taking over his face. He was also growing taller . . . . so much taller that he felt he could take a step and crush people under his feet—which were actually now paws. His entire body became furry, though instead of falling on all fours like he thought he would, remained upright, his body human-like though he was now a lion—a big lion that would bring down Voldemort once and for all.

He noticed Voldemort's eyes widen slightly before that sickening grin formed on his face. "If that's the way you want it . . ."

"I want you destroyed, Voldemort," Harry growled, his voice much deeper and rough than he expected to be.

"That's too bad," Voldemort said on an evil laugh, "because the only one who'll be destroyed is you!"

The crash rattled the castle and everyone inside yelped with fear. The entire student body was inside the Great Hall, anxious over the battle that was taking place outside. The teachers were doing all they could to keep calm, but everyone could see the trepidation in their eyes. There was another clash and then a burst of light that could be seen from the high window and Nia jumped, feeling the contact shake her very bones, and her hand tightened around Goyle's.

"I should be out there," she whispered.

"You can't . . . you know you can't. Ginny told me to tell you Draco wanted me to keep you safe."

Nia gave him a mild glare. "While they're out there getting themselves killed? I don't think so!"

Goyle gave her a sad, pleading look. "Please Nia. The last thing I need is for you to go out there, too. Bad enough Draco's out there–"

The Great Hall doors opened and people flooded inside, Dumbledore braced between Draco and Shacklebolt. Professor McGonagall and Jamilah rushed towards them immediately and the other students began wailing at the sight of their Headmaster's condition.

"What's happening?" Professor McGonagall asked.

Shacklebolt seemed dazed as he shook his head slowly. "I have no idea . . ."

"Harry," Nia heard Hermione whisper, and the older girl and Ron rushed towards the doors.

"Where do you two think you're going?" Jamilah asked sharply.

"Harry–"

"Sit _down!_" McGonagall ordered, panic lacing the command. "Do _not_ go out there! It is better you stay inside–"

"But _Harry_–"

"Is doing what needs to be done," Dumbledore rasped, sinking into the chair that was _accioed_ towards them. "It is going as it should."

Neither Hermione nor Ron seemed to except the wizened wizard's words, and Nia couldn't, either.

_Concentrate_, Nia told herself, and she began to open the Link to Harry. What she saw made her gasp, and Goyle's hand tightened around hers.

"What is it?" he asked.

Nia wanted to answer, but couldn't find her voice. She saw a dark giant and a giant lion, both in the heat of battle. There were no curses being thrown anymore; it was an out and out brawl. It seemed the dark giant had the upper hand, his knee pressing into the lion's stomach and the lion letting out a roar of pain.

_'Get up, Harry!'_

_'Nia?'_

_'_Get up!'

There was another roar, one that could be heard inside the castle and a crash of lightning.

"What was _that_?" one student asked.

Nia couldn't help but chuckle at that. If only they knew . . .

"Have either of you seen Ginny?" Draco asked as he came towards them.

"Have you tried Linking with her?" Nia asked in return.

"I've been a bit preoccupied, but I'll do that now–"

But there was no need, because Ginny burst inside the room, her eyes darting around wildly until they fell on Draco. Nia saw the girl's body sag with relief before she went to Dumbledore and began whispering something to him. Dumbledore's eyes closed slowly and McGonagall put her hand to her mouth. Jamilah looked like she wanted to argue, but instead dropped her head and waved Ginny away.

Whatever was said was clearly not good.

"I don't like this," Draco said, watching his girlfriend come to them with anxious eyes.

But Ginny went straight towards Nia, and she straightened her back to keep from collapsing in fear. "Yes?"

Ginny's eyes were as flat as her voice. "We need you."

Finally, the opportunity to fight, and Nia was at a loss of what to do. What about everyone—including the gods—telling her she wasn't ready to fight? Had they been wrong all this time and now it's too late? Nia linked with Harry again, and almost screamed aloud. Harry wasn't a lion anymore, but a boy who wasn't even wearing his glasses. Voldemort was still huge, and the Death Eaters were crowded all around him. It seemed Voldemort wasn't even going to waste magic in killing Harry; he was going to do it the old-fashioned way . . . the Muggle way.

"Fuck."

Nia ignored everyone's shouts of "what's going on?" but instead followed Ginny quickly out of the Great Hall. They didn't turn towards the outside as Nia expected, but went towards The Room where the gods were already animated and ready with their directives.

"Go to the pyramid now, Nia," Aset ordered.

Nia did not waste any time, going immediately towards the multi-colored shape. It was smaller than the last time she saw it . . . when Snape's broken body was revealed to them. Nia was a bit wary of it once again.

"Touch it."

It was Apedemak that time, and when she touched it, the color of the pyramid became gold and green.

"Link and focus," Asar commanded. "Link with Harry . . ."

She did, biting her lip to keep from screaming at what she saw. He was kneeling, glaring at Voldemort even as he looked at him with red eyes glowing triumphantly.

"Tell him to stand," Asar said.

_'I can't!'_ Harry sent through the Link. It was obvious his leg was injured because he braced himself against the ground.

"He says he can't!" Nia said urgently. Nia glanced at Ginny who shrugged helplessly.

"Help him," Nebt-het said kindly.

"How?"

"Deep inside, Nia," Aset said. "From deep inside."

Nia tried to concentrate, Linking back with Harry and the scene he faced. He seemed so tired . . . so weary . . . that was unacceptable.

_'Don't you quit on me now, Potter!'_

She saw Harry shake his head and close his eyes, expelling a deep breath. _'It's over, Nia . . . he won . . .'_

_'How can you _say_ that? How can you _think_ it?'_

_'He's snapped my wand . . . I don't have the energy to use wandless magic . . . and the minute I try something, there are at least one hundred Death Eaters who would enjoy the opportunity to kill me–'_

_'Add me to the list if you think I'm going to let you give up!'_

Harry sighed again and shook his head. _'I don't know what to do!'_

_'Stand up, Harry.'_

_'He's broken my leg!'_

_'Stand up, Harry.'_ Nia said, standing up straighter herself. _'I will help you.'_

Nia re-situated her hands on the gold side of the pyramid and began to focus. She felt the magic within her begin to flow, a heavy tingling sensation that concentrated at the flat of her palms. Her hands began to glow gold, adding to the light the pyramid's side emitted. She closed her eyes.

_'Stand up.'_

She saw Harry struggle , collapsing to all fours, and the circle nearly rolled with laughter. Voldemort's grin widened even more and Nia's stomach rolled at the sight. Harry grunted and scowled at his adversary.

_'Forget about them, Harry . . . just stand up.'_

Harry turned his eyes to the ground and began to push. The laughter began to subside and the circle watched Harry with astounded eyes as he stood. His legs were wobbly, and he was slightly hunched, but Harry was standing, and it was a refreshing sight to see.

"He's up!" Nia announced.

"Good," Apedemak said, his voice almost devoid of emotion. "Now destroy him. Destroy Thanatos!"

As much as Nia wanted to turn her attention to the gods and ask them how to go about it, she didn't dare break her Link with Harry. Going purely on instinct, she moved her hands to opposite sides of the pyramid—one on a green side and one on a gold side—and took a very deep breath.

_'Kill him.'_

_'I barely have the energy to stand, Nia!'_

_'I will help you . . . I love you . . . close your eyes.'_

Through the Link, Nia could see everyone in the circle, including Voldemort, captivated by the boy inside it. None of them could attack because they had no idea what he was doing, and curiosity had overtaken their desire for destruction. Voldemort's eyes narrowed, staring at his enemy in confusion.

It was the opening they needed.

Nia began to chant, feeling her magic mix and redirect itself from her palms to her head. She closed her eyes, almost becoming woozy from the entire process.

"_wjn__ pecoou . . wjn Thanatos . . .__ wjn pecoou . . wjn Thanatos . . ."#_

Harry began chanting it, and a dark cloud formed over his head. Some members of the circle began to step back, others brandished their wands, but none of them could do anything to stop what was about to happen. Even Voldemort sensed it, shaking his head and shouting "No!" towards the boy.

_Yeah right!_ Nia thought, going closer to the pyramid and setting her face directly over the pyramid's point.

_'Open your eyes, Harry. Now!'_

It was quick. The green and gold beams shot from her eyes, and through the Link was able to see the mixed magic burst from Harry's eyes straight into Thanatos's black heart. Voldemort screamed, an earsplitting sound that had everyone drop to their knees, right before exploding into thousands of black pieces that turned into ash the minute they hit the ground.

Suddenly, the ground opened up right below the ashes and everything fell into the gaping hole—including some Death Eaters who were close to Voldemort at the time. Their screams of terror did little to ease Nia's distress, and she gripped the pyramid tightly.

Neither did the sudden end to her Link with Harry.

"Something's wrong!" Nia said in between harsh breaths. She felt as if she'd just run a marathon, and her legs felt like jelly.

"I was afraid this would happen–"

"What would happen," Ginny asked quickly. "Asar, what happened?"

Nebt-het took a deep breath, and it made Nia more nervous. "By doing this, we left Harry vulnerable to Set . . . once he destroyed Thanatos, Pettigrew would be able to strike–"

"No . . ." Nia breathed, dread creeping through her as she righted herself on her legs.

"There's a chance Pettigrew attacked amid all the chaos," Asar continued, his voice somber. "It was a risk we had to take."

"None of this makes any sense!" Ginny exclaimed. "You sacrificed _Harry_ for Thanatos? What about Set? Isn't he the more dangerous of the two anyway?"

"Harry was the only one who could destroy Thanatos," Nebt-het began to explain.

"Then who's going to destroy Set?" Ginny demanded, then her eyes went wide and she gasped. "_No!_ Not Draco–"

"Ginny–"

Nia couldn't take anymore, drawing upon all the energy she could muster and began running out of The Room. She had to find Harry . . . had to get to him before it was too late . . . but she didn't think she was going fast enough. Nia visualized Harry where he was, hands over his ears and body in a kneeled position—

The air was acrid with the stench of death and hatred, the curses of the war making her skin crawl. Nia looked around in confused awe, wondering how she got here when not a moment before she was running down the stairs from The Room. Everything was still and smoky; she could barely see three feet in front of her, and if it weren't for the sudden breeze that lifted the smoke, she would've never seen him there, on his side and too immobile for comfort.

Nia didn't dare cry out, not knowing if there were stray Death Eaters about, and ran quickly towards Harry's prone body. She turned him over to his back, placing the back of her hand over his mouth and nose, and was relieved to feel breath.

"Okay, Harry, you gotta wake up, now!" Nia pleaded, shaking his body urgently. He wasn't listening, and she could tell he was struggling for breath. Nia sat down completely on the ground and cradled his head in her lap.

"Don't you dare!" Nia said, slapping his cheeks lightly. "Don't you dare die on me, now! Don't you do it! I won't lose you, too!"

Harry opened his eyes slowly and gave a small, pained smile. His left eye was turning black and didn't open all the way. His breath was thin and forced.

"Nia," he rasped, coughing a little as if the one sound took all the energy out of him.

Nia grasped his hand, kissing the back of it forcefully. "Stay with me, okay? Stay with me Harry . . ."

There was something about him that was different . . . . like there was peace. "I'm all right now, Nia. Everything will be fine now . . ."

"Yes. Dumbledore's gonna come out here, and Ginny'll fix you up real good–"

"I love you, Nia," Harry said with a faint smile, his thumb brushing her lower lip. His smile widened just a little bit before he closed his eyes and went slack in her arms.

Nia refused to panic, instead gathering him more closely and focusing on the Great Hall.

The stench of death and war was gone, and Nia barely registered the shocked gasps of the other students. Her attention wasn't focused on them, it was on the boy she held in her arms, a boy who seemed to have grown heavier since they were outside.

Nia used the cuff of her sleeve to wipe the dirt off his face, not even flinching when she felt Dumbledore's hand on her shoulder.

"Nia," he began calmly.

"Help him, Grandpa," Nia whispered, wiping the dirt from Harry's scar before meeting Dumbledore's blue eyes with hers. "Help him."

* * *

The translation for this is, "Destroy evil . . . destroy Thanatos." 


	20. Twenty

_Twenty_

Angelina slipped a blanket over Nia's sleeping form, pressing a kiss on the younger girl's temple before leaving the room and shutting the door quietly. Fred was leaning against the wall by the doorframe, taking her hand when she appeared and kissing it quickly. Angelina smiled at him, thankful for the gesture.

"How is she?" Fred asked on a whisper, rubbing his fingers against hers. The action soothed Angelina's frayed nerves and she went to him, needing to feel his solidness and his strength.

"She finally dozed off about ten minutes ago," Angelina muttered into Fred' chest. "She won't speak to me . . . not even a grunt. She just sits there in some kind of—of daze . . ."

Fred kissed her head and held her tighter. "She's been through a lot, love. Between what happened to Voldemort and to Harry–"

"I know." Angelina sighed, squeezing Fred's waist before pulling back and framing his face with her hands. She looked at the simple diamond on her left hand and smiled, meeting Fred's blue eyes that were now tender. He chuckled slightly before bending his hand and pressing a light kiss to her lips.

"So," he said, his lips brushing against hers as he spoke. "Is having your baby sister around supposed to be . . . practice of some sort?"

Angelina snorted and rolled her eyes. "Hardly! She just needs a place to stay, and I understand why she doesn't want to stay with my parents. Daddy would just drive her crazy with questions–"

"He's an Auror, love."

"But Nia just lost her boyfriend. She needs time to grieve."

Fred frowned as Angelina pursed her lips into a thin line, anger bubbling below the surface on behalf of her sister. Not even two months had passed since Harry rid the world of Voldemort, and during a time when there should be much celebrating, the people who should be at the fore of that merriment were doing anything but. Ginny and Draco were over often, trying to cheer up their friend and spirit sister, but Nia was just as mute and motionless with them as she was with everyone else. When Jamilah visited, at least, Nia would rest her head in her grandmother's lap, but she still stared into a void only she could see, barely blinking and her breathing such that Jamilah would put her hand underneath Nia's nose just to make sure.

"Stupid Potter," Angelina ground out, sniffling and brushing away a tear. Fred kissed Angelina's forehead and lead her to their bedroom.

"Let's get you to bed, no?"

Angelina nodded against them, wanting nothing more than to fall asleep in her fiancée's arms—the only place on earth that seemed right at the moment.

&&&

Ginny crept down the stairs of the cottage, following the sounds of harsh breathing and items crashing. Brilliant lights played upon the walls, and a shadow seemed to frolic in them. Suddenly, there was a bloodcurdling roar, propelling Ginny down the rest of the stairs only to see a pale-blond head touching the floor, hands trying to tear out hair. Ginny rushed to him, pulling him in her arms and whispering comforting words to his ears.

"Oh love . . . oh love . . ." Ginny murmured. She wondered when he would snap, and she figured this latest trip to Fred and Angelina's would send him over the edge. Truth be told, she wasn't far behind him, but she had to be strong enough for the both of them . . . yelling and screaming wasn't going to make things the way they were.

"Ginger," Draco moaned, his voice sounding like it had been rubbed with sandpaper. "Ginger . . ."

His hands went tighter around her, almost painfully so, but Ginny didn't wince, changing her position so she sat fully on the ground as he rested his head in her lap. Ginny looked around the dusty room, shuddering at the destruction in it. Broken furniture was all on one side of the room, and she could barely tell what they were before Draco put his ire to it. Shattered glass was sprinkled around the floor like confetti, and some drapery was still smoldering from Draco's last attack. Ginny kissed the top of his head, hoping that would calm Draco just a little, but she knew he needed his outlet, and this cottage was the perfect place to do it. Narcissa had told him about it when they arrived at Headquarters after the battle, seeing the look on her son's face and knowing he would need time away from Hogwarts and the ugly scene that had been rendered there. He didn't even attend the Leaving Feast, and though Ginny wanted to stay with him, she had to be there for Ron and Hermione . . .

"I miss her, Ginny . . ." Draco said quietly, taking a deep breath and clutching her thighs. "I miss her."

"I know, baby," Ginny said, running her fingers through his thin blond hair. "I miss her, too."

"Damn Potter!" Draco said, springing from Ginny's comforting grasp and breathing heavily. His eyes were flashing quicksilver and gray and Ginny cupped his face with her hands, keeping Osiris's powers at bay. Blowing up things wasn't going to help anything.

"It was something he had to do," Ginny offered, though she couldn't keep the derision out of her own voice.

"He's killed my sister," Draco said, his voice so small and lost. Ginny bit back a sob, pressing an urgent kiss to Draco's lips. At first he didn't respond, still sniffling as his tears burned her fingertips, then suddenly, he was kissing her back with such passion . . . such force, that they was suddenly in their bedroom, her clothes being torn of with lightning speed and her hands no less busy with his. They needed each other in the most basic way . . . they needed to remind each other they were alive . . . that all was not lost. Maybe once they reminded themselves, they could start reminding Nia, too.

&&&

Narcissa smiled wanly at Remus as he placed a steaming hot cup of tea in front of her. Remus sat perpendicular to her, grasping her hand and squeezing it as he nodded to her cup, indicating she should take a sip.

"It's chamomile," he said softly. "It should help you sleep."

Narcissa rubbed the back of his fingers while blowing into the cup before taking a sip. The hot liquid tasted only lukewarm to her, but she appreciated Remus's gesture to make her feel better.

Remus sighed, pressing a long kiss to Narcissa's palm, and she hiccupped, feeling the familiar burn of tears hitting the backs of her eyes. She hadn't expected to feel this way with the news of Lucius's death. The Aurors had done a sweep of the death-laden Hogwarts grounds, and he had been among them. It was true she and Lucius did not have a happy marriage, but during these last few months . . . Lucius's letters to her had been more contrite and repentant than she wanted to believe. It wasn't until Dumbledore explained the role Set/Thanatos had played in Lucius's life did she start to warm her heart to her husband . . . start to forgive. Lucius had been under a type of _Imperius_ all along, forced to serve a master he didn't necessarily want to serve or even know he was serving, all so he could keep his son from his rightful destiny.

Narcissa looked at Remus, looked into the man's kind yellow-brown eyes, looked at the scars he bore because of his monthly changes . . . looked at the stress and all the loss he had endured during his lifespan. He really was an expert at it, and Narcissa knew if Remus hadn't been here, she would've snapped a long time ago. She took another sip of her tea, starting when she felt the heat—that blessed heat this time—and gave a small yet very sincere smile to her table partner.

"Good girl," Remus murmured into her palm before kissing it again. "You're on the mend yet."

Her small smile slipped again, her brows furrowing as she thought of her son. "He still doesn't know about Lucius."

Remus nodded, placing their hands on the table. "Are you going to tell him?"

Narcissa ran fingers through her hair and shook her head, idly stirring her spoon into her teacup. "He's been through enough. I don't want to burden him with any more."

She yawned then, the chamomile tea and Remus's caresses on her hand lulling her body to the sleep it so desperately needed. Remus smiled, tugging on her hand as he stood, causing her to do the same. Narcissa wrapped her arms around his neck and stood on her tiptoes, brushing her mouth against his. Remus brought her closer, nipping the shell of her ear and whispering her name into it.

Narcissa laughed huskily, fanning her fingers on the underside of Remus's jaw. "I thought you wanted me to sleep . . ."

He kissed her even as he scooped her into his arms, climbing the stairs two at a time. "I do . . . I just want to love you, first."

"You already do," she whispered against his mouth, just as he shut the door to their room. It was that knowledge that helped Narcissa hope for a brighter future, especially for her son.

&&&

His hands were strong, yet gentle as they worked the tension out of her shoulder blades, the oil warm as he dripped it along her spinal cord before rubbing it into her soft skin. She was trying very hard to enjoy what he was doing for her, but how could she, when one of her charges was gone and her granddaughter's heart was gone with him?

Long hair brushed her shoulder and breath fanned her cheek before full lips pressed a kiss to it. "Relax, love."

Jamilah smiled a Sirius, and by his displeased look, she knew it wasn't good enough. Sirius crawled from the bed to kneel along side it, cupping her face with his hand, remnants of oil still upon it. "I'm sorry . . ."

Sirius shook his head and kissed her softly, resting his forehead against hers. "I understand . . . believe me, I do . . ."

Sirius had been rather calm about the entire ordeal, something that simultaneously worried and relieved Jamilah. Then again, with Voldemort not a threat, perhaps Sirius could feel a little peace even though his godson was gone.

"It's just . . . no preparation, you know?" Jamilah said, sitting up though clutching the sheet at her chest. Sirius remained on his knees, his hands rubbing her thighs in comforting strokes before placing his head in her lap.

"Harry didn't enter this fight blindly, love," Sirius said, his warm breath tickling some bare skin on her thigh. "He knew the risks–"

"So did my granddaughter; doesn't make the hurt any less."

Sirius looked up at her, his chin resting on the tops of her thighs and his fingers threading through hers. The candlelight casted shadows upon his face, though his eyes were bright with determination. "She'll get better; I know she will."

Jamilah closed her eyes. "You can't live without your heart, Sirius."

Sirius shook his head, sliding his hands up her arms to cup her face again. He brushed a kiss upon her nose, then rested his forehead against hers, just taking a few seconds to breathe before replying. "I remember the one time when Harry was a baby . . . right before his first birthday. He had climbed upon a step stool, trying to reach his favorite cup—had snitches on it of all things—and James and I were arguing over . . . something, I can't remember what. Anyway; he'd just gotten that cup and the stool slid from beneath him and he fell, slapping the ground really hard. Well, James, as you know, went berserk, holding his little boy to him, and begging little Harry to open his eyes. I was beside myself with fright and self-loathing—how could we not pay attention to a little baby? However, not even a minute after the accident, Harry opened those big green eyes and let out the biggest giggle I'd heard from him yet. James's relief was so profound I thought he would squeeze his son to death!"

Jamilah very much appreciated Sirius's effort, but, "He's not here to giggle now, Sirius."

Sirius hugged her tightly, kissing her neck briefly. "We'll hear it again someday, love . . . I know we will . . ."

Jamilah said nothing else, allowing him to hold her and lend her some of his strength.

&&&

There were boxes everywhere . . . but both of them were too tired to do anything about it—too tired to even lift their wand and remove some of them. She watched him look around the flat—their flat—with a mixture of awe and sadness across his face. His hand fell across the first door on the right; it was to be Harry's room, at least until he could get his own flat.

Now he wouldn't be needing the room _or_ a flat.

"Ron?" Hermione called softly, worrying her wedding band as she worried about her husband. He gave her a brief smile, yet continued to trace his fingers along the wood paneling.

"We had _so many plans_, love . . . so many," Ron said on a whisper, eyes squinted as if trying to see far into the distance. "And now they've all turned to shit."

"Ron–"

"He was supposed to be our children's godfather, you know," Ron said on a laugh, looking at his wife with tenderness. His eyes dropped to her stomach before coming back to her face. "We were going to have a Quidditch team full of kids and he was going to be the godfather to _every single one of them_ . . ."

"Ronald . . ." Hermione began, but knew there wasn't anything she could say to reassure him. She, like everyone else, thought that once Harry defeated Voldemort, everything would be fine . . . go back to normal . . . happiness would reign. They were anything _but_ happy—at least happy to their fullest potential. A big part of their life was no longer there, and the adjustment was harder than they thought it would be. The seat next to Ron at the Gryffindor table was conspicuously empty during the Leaving Feast, and it represented the gaping hole that was in both of their hearts. More than once Hermione held her husband while he shed silent tears for their lost friend, wiping away her own as she stared at the dial of the Muggle alarm clock. They had stayed with his family for the first few weeks after leaving Hogwarts; they both needed as much love, support, and _distractions_ as they could get before moving into their own flat just on the outskirts of London.

But now it was just the two of them, and Ron seemed dangerously close to falling apart.

"No."

Ron whipped his eyes to her, his oncoming grief interrupted by confusion. "What?"

"Come here, Ron," she commanded, crossing her arms at her chest and tapping the carpeted floor with her foot for good measure. "Now."

Ron glanced at the door one last time before following her directing, red hair falling into his eyes as he stared down at her. Immediately, Hermione felt safe. His height and solid build made him be the very knight he was when they were first years, expertly playing McGonagall's chess game to enable Harry to get the Stone. He was _still_ her knight—he just needed reminding.

So she did, licking her lips briefly before looping her arms around his neck and bringing him down for a deep kiss. Ron was startled, but not so startled he could get his bearings quickly and return the kiss with equal enthusiasm. Suddenly she was weightless, his hands urging her to wrap her legs around his waist as he climbed his way over the boxes to their sofa. He sat down, Hermione now straddling him, and ended their kiss with small pecks. He rested his forehead against hers, his lightly-freckled face flushed but with a smile.

It had been so long since he smiled.

"I needed that," he said wryly, tangling his hands in her unruly chocolate curls.

Hermione gave him another small kiss and nodded. "I know you did, love."

He sighed deeply as her fingers caressed the hair at the nape of his neck. "I wish we could've gone with him . . . it was always the three of us . . ."

Hermione shook her head, her face the picture of remorse. "Our paths were diverging long before now, Ron. This was a journey had to take by himself . . . just like first year. We help him get there, but ultimately, he has to make that final trek alone."

"It's bloody unfair," Ron said, his fingers digging into her waist, though not painfully so.

"I know, Ron, I know," Hermione said, hugging him. Ron adjusted her so he cradled her in his lap, his lips brushing her temple and forehead. She closed her eyes at his attentions, feeling very loved as she always did with Ron.

"At least I have you, Hermione," he said quietly after a few moments. "I don't know how I would've survived if I lost you, too."

Hermione turned his face, forcing him to look deeply into her eyes. "You'll never have to find out, because you'll never lose me."

Ron gave her a skeptical look. "Hermione–"

The kiss was short but said everything she needed to say. "You _won't_."

Ron's eyes darted along her face, and she smiled reassuringly at him. "You won't lose me either, Hermione."

She merely shrugged, nuzzling her nose against his. "I know."

He frowned. "How do you know that?"

"Who are you talking to, Ron?"

He blinked at her, then a slow, disarming smile stretched across his face, causing her to giggle right before he crushed his mouth to hers. "My brilliant Know-It-All . . ."

And as he kissed her, Hermione felt light and happy, assured in the fact she and Ron could face anything as long as they were together.

&&&

Dumbledore rubbed Fawkes's head, the phoenix letting out a squawk of contentment before flying off high in the sky until he was nothing more than a dot. The winds whipped sand into his face, but Dumbledore was unbothered, his Shielding Spell preventing the small particles from becoming a nuisance.

He looked at his companion, familiar red ponytail whipping in the wind, the fang earring hitting the side of his neck in rapid succession. There was a haunted look in those brown eyes, and Dumbledore put a kind hand on his bicep.

"It had to be done," the old wizard said gravely.

Bill raised his eyes brows, rubbing his chin contemplatively. "I just remember seeing the look on my brother's face . . . on Nia's face . . . did it _really_ have to be this way?"

"Yes. On the path to the ultimate good, sacrifices have to be made."

Both men looked at the hazy image of the temple as it sank back into invisibility. It had been a trying couple of weeks, finally culminating into this trip to Aswan. There were so many goodbyes . . . so many people wanted to pay their respects to The Boy Who Lived. Even Dumbledore had to wipe away a few tears; Harry had become a son to him . . . especially given his relationship with Nia.

He hoped the Little One would understand when she got older.

"I trust you, Headmaster," Bill said, giving a salute to the disappeared temple and took out his wand, muttering in the ancient language as he Apparated back to London.

Dumbledore took a deep breath, breathing in the ancient air before closing his eyes and shrugging off his robe. He sat down in the sand with his legs folded, murmuring an old spell while taking deep breaths in-between incantations.

"_0ime swt ouwnx etoot_ . . ." Dumbledore chanted, feeling sweat begin to fall off him like rain. Soon, the entire space where he sat was wet, as though he sat in a puddle, and the puddle started to track a river through the sand, going a few feet in front of him when a woman rose from it, dark and nude save for a simple sheath. Dumbledore's mouth was suddenly as dry as the desert in which he sat. She smiled at him . . . a smile he hadn't seen in over 100 years.

"Asenath," he managed to rasp. The incantation had worked; his wife had returned to him—for however long he had—but to see her face again . . .

"All-boos," she said softly, walking, but never really touching the ground. She held out a hand to him. "Come, my love."

Dumbledore stared at her hand for a moment, scared that if he touched her she'd vanish as the temple did. However, he gathered his courage took her hand and stood. He felt the years melt off as he did so, until suddenly he was the very same age when he first met Asenath all those years ago.

Unable to help himself, Dumbledore pulled her into his arms, her light laughter causing his, and he lifted her, spinning her around before placing her back on the ground and giving her a kiss over 100 years in the making.

"I've missed you, my love," he said breathlessly when they broke apart.

Asenath's eyelids fluttered, and she rested her forehead against his chest. "It is only now I realize how much I've missed you, All-boos."

They held each other, his body getting used to the feel of hers again. Dumbledore knew he didn't have much time . . . but he wanted to indulge himself a little, feeling he had earned that right.

"Asenath–"

She stilled his words with her fingers, tracing over them with a faint smile on her face. "I've always liked the way you said my name, All-boos."

"And you mine," he admitted.

Asenath nodded, linking her fingers with his and taking a deep breath. "The next few years will be hard—harder than even you may be prepared for them to be. Take counsel with the gods, All-boos. Tell the reincarnates to do the same—especially Nia."

"Nia is not well—"

"Neither was Aset when Apedemak was gone, but Nia, like her foremother, is strong. She will get through it."

Dumbledore cupped her cheeks, his breath puffing against her forehead. She was cool, like a much-needed glass of water. "She mourns for him as I mourn for you, my love."

Asenath kissed his palm and smiled. "Do not mourn me, love. I have never left! I am always here."

"Asenath–"

"I am in our children, All-boos. I am in Jamilah and Nia . . . I will be in _her_ children should she have them."

Dumbledore's eyes clouded over and he stared at the sky. "If Set doesn't get to her first."

"Yes," Asenath said lowly. "The more time that passes, the harder it will be to annihilate him."

"He's the one who attacked Harry . . . I'm sure of it."

"And now he thinks he's won," Asenath continued. She forced Dumbledore to meet his eyes. "That will be his downfall."

But even he, the eternal optimist that he was, was having a hard time seeing how. With Harry gone, the reincarnates were breaking at the seams, particularly the one who needed to be the fittest. But his Asenath continues to have hope, and so long as she did, Dumbledore would not give up, and do everything in his power not to let the others give up either.

&&&

His reflection was cracked and a little cloudy, parts of his head separating onto the five digits of his fingers. His bottom lips trembled and his nostrils flared, his vision becoming blurry as scalding tears hit his nerveless silver hand and the rotted wood of the three-legged table. Torn drapes hung ominously above and around him, cobwebs decorating the walls and overturned broken furniture that littered the floor. There was a single candle providing ill lighting, but he didn't need much more than that . . . didn't _deserve_ much more after what he's done.

"Stupid, stupid, stupid!" he muttered, hitting the handle of the knife against his temple so hard blood trickled down the side of his face. The acrid smell calmed him a little—he'd been used to it for so long it was as if his body needed it in order to function properly. He used the flat blade of the knife to wipe away the blood, then stared at it blankly . . . wondering what it would look like completely covered in it . . .

"I'd be doing the world a favor," he muttered, his eyes growing slightly, excitement and adrenaline running through his veins again. It was a similar feeling he had when he had been a seventh year in school, having used James's Invisibility Cloak to sneak into the Restricted Section upon a dare Sirius had given him. He had wanted to pick out the best, most restricted text he could find, but none of them seemed to be good enough. However, a plain text with the Egyptian Eye of Horus had caught his attention . . . even more so because upon opening it, the book was empty papyrus leaves. There was a reason for this book to be there, he had reasoned, but he wouldn't show the others until he had figured out just what it was . . .

By the time he did, he had turned traitor to James and Lily and had framed one best friend while alienating the other.

He had been trapped, lured by curiosity and the desire to be seen as worthy of being a Marauder. The ancient god had sequestered him in a tiny corner of his mind, using his body as a vessel to take over the world . . . much as he did with Tom Riddle. It was worse than being under _Imperius_ because his prison was self-inflicted, and his foe one of the strongest forces on the planet. His last and only triumph against that evilness was turning himself into a mouse for 12 years . . .

Pettigrew twirled the tip of the blade into his temple, feeling the burn of skin and nerves breaking as he laughed maniacally. Sirius's return had allowed Set to completely take over him—Sirius and that bloody cat of the bushy-haired girl. The feelings of shame and sorrow over his betrayal had fueled the dark god to grow in power. He'd escaped Sirius's attack, had seen vestiges of the god's ancient foe in the boy's green eyes, and worked tirelessly with Voldemort to bring Harry and whoever else aided him down.

But then, Pettigrew had realized Set's purpose was greater than settling an old score. It was to gain control of the world. He knew the tickets were inside two reincarnates, but one in particular. And when Pettigrew found out the Weasley girl was Nephthys's reincarnate, he realized he hadn't been in control at all; Set had recognized something about her, even if the piece didn't fall into place until much later.

"And now," Pettigrew mumbled, pulling the knife from his hand and dragging it across his left palm, grinning at the blood bubbling from the crooked line he made. "He's found _her_ . . ."

Aset. She looked just like her mother . . . just like the goddess after which she was named. He'd hung around after delivering the devastating blow to young Potter's body, enjoying the way his eyes flashed green as his life dribbled out the side of his mouth. She had looked at Harry the way he had always dreamed she'd look at _him_ . . . but bide his time, he would.

But not with Pettigrew this time. The god had left his body once Pettigrew had fled the scene, looking upon his former host with disgust before floating off to Merlin knows where. Apparently, Pettigrew had served his function; Set would greet his bride in a body worthier of the introduction. Pettigrew didn't mind, though; in fact, he and the god finally agreed on something. His body had served its purpose . . . as bad as it clearly was.

The lines on his wrists were just as crooked as the one on his palm, and as the blood poured out of his body, he asked faint forgiveness to whomever before succumbing to the forgiving dark abyss.

&&&

He really shouldn't be here . . . if he were caught; it would jeopardize everything they'd been striving to achieve. But he wasn't as strong as everyone else gave him credit for being; the separation was just too great.

He hadn't wanted to leave her, but he knew it was his destiny. He'd tried to dry her tears, tried to reassure her he would be all right—and he was. He'd never felt better, actually—even got a chance to be with his parents again—but part of him wondered if this was the price he had to pay for such a gift.

He sighed, brushing a curl from her forehead, then kissing that forehead lingeringly. He missed her skin, her scent. He missed holding her in his arms as they stared at the stars in the Astronomy Tower—a privileged earned because they had friends in "high" places.

"You know you shouldn't be here."

He looked at the older man wearily before glancing back at her sleeping form. "She understands, right?"

The other man walked closer to the bed, apparently as unable to be away from her as he was. Slim, bony fingers ghosted upon her cheek before pulling away as if scalded. "She knows why . . . but the understanding will take time . . ."

"I'm coming back for her."

"But you cannot do that until you're fully healed. Come . . . the more illicit trips you make up here the longer it'll take for your return."

He wanted to argue that he felt fine, but he knew it wouldn't do. Unable to stop himself, he cupped her cheek with a gentle hand and placed a delicate, chaste kiss to Nia's lips.

"I love you," he whispered, before leaving her bed and slipping back into the darkness with Professor Snape.

Five minutes later, amid the stillness of the room, Nia hugged the pillow closer to her and smiled faintly.

"I love you, too, Harry . . ."


End file.
